Spring in Nebraska

You can see children playing
Not knowing the inevitability of
Growing up
And brightly hued tulips
And daffodils
And carpets of shy grass
And flying things
Cotton taking flight
As weeds become wishes
You can see the old dirt roads
Where bikes carry renewed spirits
Through silence
Interrupted only by the music of a red-winged blackbird
Along endless mazes of corn and corn
Because it's spring in Nebraska.