Author Richard Rensberry

Ribbons of perfect corn
roll over the hills and stretch for miles
devoid of milk, pig
and other weeds. Rivers of Roundup
Ready beans undulate
pest free in the summer breeze. Acres
of sunflowers
bow their heads, yellow faces
sad and in obedience
to Dupont and Monsanto; you can almost hear
their silent prayers
reach forever.

In the meadows
of long grasses, in the orchards
of red apple and down the roads
of hard gravel, between posts
strung with barbed wire, in the thistle towers
and along the infinite lines for electric power,
there is silence, a silence unbroken
by wren or sparrow,
by lark, finch or whippoorwill,
no arguments heard from cow birds,
killdeers or blue jays, only silence,
for even the crows have up and moved
to the city.