poems / Poetry


The brilliant western sun

in glorious burnt orange fury

is headed out to pasture

Making room for

a seamless starry night

for those bright

incandescent lights

to illuminate

a century of

waiting ruins

Tame at last

the scattered sun rays

make their last stand

The whippoorwill sings

of a vast, aching loneliness

In the glimmering, glowing sunset

skies fade to rust

evening birds take flight

ripened wheat sways

in wild gyration

Somewhere walking

in deep distant dust

footprints left for a moment

The countryside echoes silence

faded flowers dream

the prairie…

a land slung low

the history screams



14 thoughts on “Landscape

    • There are certain aspects of that are really pretty, sunset for one and when the stars come out. That particular setting is from my grandparents’ farm where I spent a lot of time alone as a child which you can probably tell, ha ha!

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