Hoping to see something beyond my window,
a supplement to a stack of stale DVDs.
The one channel I could see,
had news from afar;
a town three hours from me.
And in the morning, before the sun,
the farm report was read from a simple stage.
No flash, montage or spin.
Just the weather and the price of beans.
It was not so long ago,
a decade I suppose, that my rabbit ears were rendered,
by some FCC rule, obsolete–
replaced by wire and something high-speed.
And now I know the price of everything,
but the price of beans.