Green.
Greener than I expect.

West from Oklahoma City,

drive toward sun,
toward desert,
toward lapping ocean,
toward the land of gold where I will leave behind my heart
swelling, bursting, bleeding.

(But don’t think of that – not now, not yet.)

Through rolling grasslands, grazing cattle, a sudden shift to crops,
and then
flat line

The land browns
Grows lumpy, mis-shapen,
knotty mounds jutting from red clay soil,
tumors on the otherwise flat world.

When it rains, the creeks and rivers run brown.