My grandad had a place near the end of Maple Avenue.
This was small-town life in the early seventies.
My mom had sadly just passed away, and I was far too young.
My dad had a lot on his metaphorical plate; shift work, farming.
He wished for things to be different, but they weren’t.
A wise man contemplates
The falling snow in the trees
But it’s what made him wise
The average man yearns to see
Some things we need to learn
Makes us privy to certain facts
Great philosophers try to tell us
It’s in the way we control our acts.
Let’s say you see birds today
Let’s say they are birds of prey
They look intimidating
Soaring a circular ring
But what else is there to say
What is it that makes them stay
Here where the prairie dog sings
And the wind powers their wings
They study land with…
I find myself here when I need to let it all go
The water seems to move like a satin sheet
It mimics the sky and plays tricks on the eye
There’s a calming nature like no other I’ll meet
The clouds are high in the distant sky
Looming, dooming, they…