Old stones, ancient lines.
Boundaries.
Demarcated. Decimated.
The blind lead the Blinded.
Summer unfurls, thunder rumbles;
in the distance.
Special reports, queries.
Dimly perceived, a whiff of malfeasance.
Foundations laid bare.
A People laid bare.
Old stones, ancient lines.
There is nothing quite like a prairie sunrise.
By W.N. Branson 
