Poetry of Kansas
 

Noon.

It is noon.
Hot winds blow sand and
through doors and windows
Vegetables, in front of the store
are withered and rotting
A baby whimpers--
A mother croons.
An airplane passes over--
A barefoot boy burns his
to watch its flight
A wagon, drawn by two bony horses
creeps slowly down the street
Children of all ages peer out--
dirty, underfed, sunburned children
The village derelict
dozes in front of the corner drug store.
His faithful dog snaps the flies
that swarm about him.
The clang of a bell
breaks the silence.
A few anemic-looking clerks move
slowly toward the boarding house.
The door slams shut.
The heat burns on.

__Jean Rathburn Haines.

Kansas Poets
Edited by May William Ward
(New York: Henry Harrison. 1935)
Page 96

 
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April 10, 2005 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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