Quinn Graw

Walking down the wagon trails
sure thing you aren't reading braille.
Finding the path of the country roads
old stomping grounds have grown cold.
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When you are riding on the pine
the train blurs the scenery outside.
Inside the car the essence of time stands still
the wheels on the track and the clock
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The wind is cold
traffic drives by on the highway
one wanders on the trail
softly stepping on old and new grass
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Walk down the trail
the seeder and the tractor
starting to move without fail.
Half an hour
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The sun is shining above
on a cool, windy Saturday morning
after the Friday night rain
made the garden a muddy rut.
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Don't give a licken
to your chicken
unless you are in the kitchen.
White or dark meat
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I paint verse with my pen-brush
here there is no rush
to create my world of words.
But on the weathered work table
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One it is a colour
Two it is a fruit
no rhyme is possible being
for the simple orange
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Too little, too small stuff I can't tell God about that
but just wait it is not the devil who is in the details
it's God who is in the little details.
Quoting Psalm 4: 8
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Looking out the kitchen window
setting my eyes upon today's winter
the unharvested stubble still peeks through the snow
drifting upon the fence posts.
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Children ride the swings
sliding down the old red and blue slide
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On the daily rainstorms of life
the clouds filled with trouble and strife
pass overhead now and again.
Running away from or fighting a cloud
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The sands of grain in time
every second merges with one another
creating a small sand dune of a day.
Seven more days then a larger sand dune remains.
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In that fateful way who ever won the race on that day
discovered a secret safe place
that within lies the golden dream.
Traveling the gravel road
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Almost sunny
merely cloudy
nice enough
weather bluff.
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As we exercise the body
how often are our mind exercises shoddy?
Those little grey brain cells
where our existence dwells
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Mid-evening sunshine
beaming down on the side of my face
a calm but slight wind
on this near perfect Father's Day Sunday.
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Instructions to die
after you spent the life force
hopefully without a divorce.
Take risks, stick your neck out
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On a private Monday afternoon
the tall grass waving to the last
under the calm, gentle wind beast
the Sun teasing behind clouds
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South words
popped into my mind
random words
living as a flat lander
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