A car driver's view of a sprawling city from the freeway with the plains of Kansas in the background, dark grey storm clouds gathering ominously in the wide blue sky.

The rains of Kansas
smell like wet leather
and agriculture.
In the winter all you can smell is frost.

Half my life ago I was a boy
and I left the plains
for a grander life in the city.
But the prairie breeze never left the boy.

You don’t travel here
so much as drift.
Sky so big you can hide forever,
and a lifetime away
the horizon waits patiently for you.
All the things inside of me
are so much nearer than I admit
(at least to myself).

It’s true that I recognize the dirt roads
and the familiar smell of wheat
but this place isn’t my home
and neither is anywhere else
that can be seen from a rearview mirror.