Poetry of Kansas Here & Now, There & Then

Sharp little kernels whittle away at civility while
screeching rhetoric cuts like switchgrass.
Precious little patience.
Humbleness in short supply.
We surely do reap what is sown.
Why do some hearts become brittle
like the mason’s mortar?
Meadowlark’s song is lost
in the holler and din of a
Free State restricted.

— Sandy Snook

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