There exists the stray person among us who lives her whole life not knowing that she is actually a Barn Person, until one day she moves to a land loaded to the gills with new, old, colorful, sagging, huge, small, single-deckers up to quadruple-decker barns. Barns are on every hill, in every valley, climbing hillsides, or even existing as part of houses like in Europe. When this stray person among us gazes upon such story book barn scenery, she inexplicably wells up with tears, sensing overwhelming bliss from even the land, the trees, farm houses, fences, horses, and cattle that surround the barns; and she constantly whispers or chokes out, “It is so beautiful!” pronouncing every consonant slowly and clearly. This stray person’s spouse has to pat her on the hand and continue driving around more curves, each one creating new tearful, happy, emotional outbursts of “It is so beautiful!”
Through sprinkles on the windshield, on a gray, cloudy, Tuesday morning, between Emporia and Newton, Kansas
the back half of a long, stretched out train wends its way west, pulling gray, brown, and rusted cars that might hold grain or might be empty
Long sections of rust-colored cars are hooked up to long sections of gray cars, which are hooked up to long sections of mixed cars of gray, rust, or brown
most stenciled with the letters BNSF on the sides; some having painted-out graffiti here and there; others showing off decorative patches of graffiti
The train vanishes into a long line of tall, green trees
A bit farther down the road, two hooked-up train engines pop out of the trees, hauling the thread of gray, rust, and brown cars
and I hear a long, loud blast—a sad, mournful, multi-horned sound, generating a whole range of emotions and longing within me.
Radiant Energy Demonstrated
flows across great distances
as wild color, violent emotion, or heat sense
all noticeable and sensational
When I see Radiant Energy Demonstrated
I see red
(I bought a writing lab book by Writer’s Digest from Barnes and Nobles in Wichita, to while away my time on airplanes, and one of the labs required me to pick my favorite color, make an anagram, and write a poem using the anagram words. What would you write about?)
While I sit on the porch bench
wild winds blow noisily out of the southeast
shoving tree branches and leaves toward the northwest
while agitated storm clouds speed high above out of the northwest
darkening the skies to the southeast
Two winds rushing in two different directions
one on the top of the other in the same sky
Winds like that can really mess up the hair
In the same way
wild events and emotions recently blew noisily out of nowhere
heading me in different directions, both within and around me
Things like these can really mess up the hair, too
(P.S.: My husband is recovering nicely from having blood clots in the lungs, and I’m recovering from all the adrenaline flows. Sitting in the wind yesterday afternoon, made me realize it was no different than what has been happening within me for the past two weeks. I’m enjoying a peaceful time now, until the next storm)
Plastic bags gently chase each other, in continuous wind-caused circles, between the building and the large metal boxes on wheels parked side by side and attached to little carts for picking up luggage, which come and go from time to time, while raindrops slap against the glass window I’m staring out of, leaving water balls of themselves, smaller and smaller, as they slide down until nothing is left to leave behind.
Moving to the other side of the room, the gloomy, overcast skies also cover the front of Concourse B, graying the metal and glass structure, making it resemble an old factory needing a shine up.
Inside, above me, a large white ceiling fan with several long fins, quietly whumps around with upturned tips imitating jet wings, going nowhere.
Sighing heavily, I continue roaming around the crowded waiting areas, filled with people wanting to go somewhere, like me.