Sunbathing in Southwest Kansas,
Lying on the grass covered banks of the Arkansas,
Watching the fishermen in their boats,
Lazily casting their lines in the hope of catching something, anything,
But not really caring, just enjoying the sunshine and companionship.
Dreams and memories of another time,
When water flowed in the Arkansas,
Before Colorado cut the flow.
Before the Arkansas became nothing,
A dry, sandy washout. When Kansas knew what water was.
— Kenneth Rishel
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 