Night Time Storm


thunder booms and crashes,
while the winds begin to howl,
nature's concert,
lightning dances across the sky,
a light show set to music,
primitive and savage,
awake in bed,
wondering if one should dress,
and get up and see,
what nature's punks have already wrecked,
damn head bangers.





Dreams


the foundations of the homestead,
abandoned,
and covered with weeds,
claimed now by rattlesnakes,
and squatter jackrabbits,
the beginning and end of the dream,
a young man,
an immigrant searching a better life,
happy and proud,
when the land he claimed,
finally his own,
bought and paid for with his life,
but within a generation or two,
the place abandoned,
and eventually sold,
his descendants following dreams of their own,
so very different from the old man's dreams.





Boys from Town


boys from town,
would gather at the river,
beer cans in hand,
skipping rocks,
and throwing at the swallow nests,
underneath the bridge,
the birds would take flight,
while their eggs and little ones would fall to the ground,
along with their broken homes,
hardly noticed by the boys from town,
bored with life,
the destruction,
only payback,
for being born in this backwater Nebraska town,
the swallows rebuild,
again and again,
stubborn or maybe just stupid,
akin to the boys from town.





Our World


secret fishing holes,
and routes downtown,
apple trees watched,
and staked out,
awaiting the first fruits of summer,
leave the house at the crack of dawn,
with a kiss from Mom,
and a command to be good,
to the baseball diamond,
and then the gas station,
fifteen cents for a soda pop,
three cents back,
if the bottle returned,
banana seat bikes,
the chosen mode of transportation,
easier to give a friend a ride,
summer time,
a world all our own,
until Mom's call to supper,
then the magic gone,
until tomorrow,
and the crack of dawn.