It’s late in the year you wonder
where’s the rain,
the hiss on scorched asphalt?
and you notice things more,
like the crackle of deer footsteps in woods
thick with pine straw, a tinderbox waiting,
waiting.
and the farm suffers so,
most folks cranky, living
on weather reports, scanning skies a naked blue,
only a few clouds,
the sun
deadly to hopes,
the sun
roasting front porches at noon,
no one out,
just a few going to shop,
bringing back five gallon jugs of water,
licking their cracked lips,
the corn just crisp and brown
and only three foot tall.
Farmers relying on their crops to help them make it through the winter --- yep, but give them just the right amount of rain, please no flood nor drought.
I love your imagery, Larry, I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love your imagery. :) Seriously: so few words pack a vivid punch, one sees the scene unfolding before the eyes. Excellent.
Early Works is an exhaustive compilation of the first decade of the poems and stories of Z.B.McClure. Included are family photos, rare personal photos, photos of 1st draft manuscripts of many of his early poems. Also some biography and memoir materia
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
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Kathy
The farmers nightmare and the fires freind.
Nice pictures found in these words.
thank you
Chris
enjoyed...
John
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.