Cattails line the other banks So takes were made Along the flanks of water cress Where I finessed A cricket twitching Just beside a sunken tree My sister claimed Had stole her jig The special one I tied myself A stuffed giraffe Whose tail was tan The way I like a jig to be. Then […]
The Mosquitoes Protect the Trout Mackie stood at the sink and sipped from his cup. Coffee in the morning… that first sip dissolves the night fog. The boys were spread across the room in various stages of dress. Chippy was still in his jeans and work shirt, but half asleep sprawling sideways across his bunk.
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What is summer in your world?Sandy beaches? Flags unfurled?Mine was evenings cast in dustSounds of combines … grainy rust.Sweat bees… grease zerks… burlap jugsHoppers… and potato bugs.Sunken toes in piles of wheatAuger spouts and dirty heat.Early morning lots to doWaiting for the drying cueTake a sample get it testedTarp the truck bed never rested.Once the
There are those who ruminateOn matters worthy of debateBack and forth we hear the chatterSolutions? They don’t seem to matter. We are We…. we sing our songAnd if you don’t… then you are wrong.What we know? Our noble creed?Curries more than what we need. We beat the drum to set the paceWe shout out loud
It’s never just the words,But also what you’re doingLittle things and kindly tasksSimple caring is all you ask. For a minute, since we first metYears have past I won’t regretEven one short instanceWhen there was ireYour actions quenchedMy angry fire. I read each message long or shortAnd linger there within the portOf happiness that calms
Where are the lines that once were clearWhen what was right and what was dearA promise made by all of usMore perfect bonds and lesser fuss. The promise wasn’t absoluteWe have to sacrifice and saluteEquality is what we bought…The price was paid by those who faught. Old Ironside has come to restIn the evening sailing
The moments buildThe memory lostAmong the treesAmid the frostA shower cameAnd then the rustSeasons changeMovement tossedAside in timeThe beating brokeWithin my breastNow the hollowCavern claimsAn emptinessBut whose to blameA heart was neverMeant to beStole awayIn misery.
There appeared out of the blowing snow a team of four horses harnessed to a strange wagon. Each horse was dressed in a chestnut coat, white socks, and a white striped face…all with dark brown manes cascading across a powerful neck. Plumes of steam shot rapidly from their nostrils as they came to a sharp
