By RAHN ADAMS
You’re so Boone. / You prob’ly think this poem is about you. / You are so Boone.
Above the BeansTalk, / I look past the Baptists and Methodists / to a green valley beyond.
Dark clouds gather; / but like continents, they drift apart / (like our conversations).
It takes time — / more than one big cup of good coffee — / to get the big picture.
Red sky at night? / That just means the storm will come / before dawn’s delight.