Up With the Grain

Up With the Grain

Today I watched them knock
our town's grain elevator down.

Cloud of dust, pile of rubble
where it once stood
like a white, wooden soldier
beside the railroad tracks,
Melthern in black across its middle.

Now they'll haul the grain
to a huge, cement tower
nothing like the shoulders
that sloped above the town,
musty and dark inside

where a bright green engine putted
as it lifted kernels up the elevator
shaft to bins at the peak. I wanted
to rise up with the grain
and the swallows.

From that high window
I'd see blue squares
of flax, sloughs
like jewels, knots of bush,
roads to explore for miles.

Today our elevator disappeared
but my view is still here, clearing with the dust.


poem by Barbara Nickel


photo credit - Flickr: Cody Kapcsos