five months — a heartland reality

the feedlot down the road keeps five hundred black cows...

Five inches of snow with coffee

And I’m left on the heels of that summer girl from summers ago...

i miss you your clear and placid pools ...

The late afternoon sun lopes up the road like a mad Labrador...

but for the children it remains empty...

who has not stood at the base of a canyon...

the gate neither swings nor closes but dangles there...

and if I called your name on the altar of sleep would you hear me...

While it goes on unabated, where were you when...

In truth we own this day...