They’ve got the range

Find them witty find them woeful
Find them haughty find them humble
See their words precise, incanting
See them falling in a tumble

Hear them scream like crows in flight
High away from any land
Listen to their quiet whispers
How they shift like desert sands

Ponder on their wilds and windows
On their war and on their peace
Imagining gore, red or bloodless
Or spring’s fluffy, baby geese

Poets expounding on their city
The campus streets aflush with cars
The gingko trees, historic buildings
And pasts that brought us where we are