Kansas, My Home

I like the open spaces, the empty places where leaves curl and cuddle in mounds hidden from gusty gales of south winds gone north.

I like the blue expansive sky, stretched far and pinned in place by broomstick trees stitching sky and earth together.

Hedgerows, hallowed reminders of Dust Bowl days, lined up like squares of patchwork seams hold back waves of dirt.

Corn and wheat flourish, forming endless rows of green carpets between these hedgerow borders.

Waters, deep-rooted below in the Ogalala Aquifer, we dare not waste lest we like nesters before, strip earth of its security.

I like summer heat—though not too much—when day arrives early and stays late, with time for sipping cold tea in between.

The winter days, so short and bleak inspire baking, puzzle-making and letter writing—connecting hearts with far-off friends.

The seasons roll in rhythms, not too long, sometimes too short when April snows lay lilacs low or rose buds bloom in March.

An Ohio child, a Minnesota mom, I’ve come full bloom in Kansas.

 —After reading The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan about the Dust Bowl days in western Kansas during the late 1920s and 1930s, Elizabeth Ann Raid, Newton, Kansas, wrote this poem. She sees parallel survival themes that flow through the seasons of her life. Beyond her life in Kansas, she stays connected to the broader world through her fund-raising work for Mennonite Central Committee, an international peace, relief, and development organization.