SHELTER BELT
The job of the trees
is to stop the snow
If they wish
to turn green
in the summer
and play with birds
no one will object
Tag Archives: Prairie
LONG HOT SASKATCHEWAN SUMMER SHORT POEMS
LONG HOT SASKATCHEWAN SUMMER SHORT POEMS
Hay bales pile
the sun stays to watch
will evening come
_____________________
Plow breaks again
metal too hot to touch
will evening come
_______
______________
Girl in summer dress
more heat inside than out
fall is soon coming
_____________________
Beer is all gone
road weaves our way home
morning comes soon
_____________________
Sun rises at four
bones store summer heat
winter days are short
_____________________
Waiting for the crop
rain or hail, God decides
in the pub, politics
_____________________
Stopping for water
dry eyes turn westward
reading the clouds
_____________________
The farmer complains
gratitude too much like pride
outside the rain falls
THE FARMER
THE FARMER
The farmer stands on land so flat
you bend your mind over the end of it
to keep from losing touch with the earth
And he understands the simple honesty
that feeds more than it eats
While a crowded world crowds in
and a crowded sky send siren songs
to lure his young away
JEANNE MARIE WRITES A NEW BOOK
JEANNE MARIE WRITES A NEW BOOK
When it rains in Biggar Saskatchewan
a bigger battle begins
Grass and grain sucking straws
to the slurping point
The sun trying as always to extract
far more than its fair tithe
Muddy waters swirling down drains
of gopher and badger holes
Settling through hollows of buffalo wallows
where the buffalo no longer roam
Remainders feeding underground streams
and deep raging rivers
If I put my feet or my ear to the ground
I can almost understand her last poem
Almost hear the next one
A PRAIRIE VILLANELLE
A PRAIRIE VILLANELLE
If prairie wheels again had I
I’d chew the gravel and the air
with prairie roads to fly
I’d plume the earth into sky
to show them I was there
If prairie wheels again had I
Past placed where dead neighbours lie
I’d not linger, who would dare
with prairie roads to fly
Dust to dust gets in your eye
I’d look for other things to share
if prairie wheels again had I
Then greener farmyards I’d pass by
in mem-mirages free of care
with prairie roads to fly
I’d roll past all that makes you cry
afloat I sunsets clear and fair
in prairie wheels again had I
with prairie roads to fly
MOTHER’S POEM
MOTHER’S POEM
The kitchen has always been the center
of the universe of any farm or ranch
She feeds their sleepy forms in morning
clothes them for the cold or warm
and prays them safe from harm
Looks out her window to the East
where barn shadows and rolling hills
greet them as they start their day
Men in firm direction to their work
children scattering to play
Then South across the lake to catch
the water’s mood foretelling wind or calm
Sometimes
sees in morning
mirages of cutbanks rising
like mountains along the Eastern shore
Or more directly to the South
forms of her old neighbour’s homes
rising and shimmering
like memories of her youth
Seasons spiral out and in from this center
crocus and buttercups in the greening grass
cactus flowers and the joy of newborn calves
The growing season of the grain
and golden glory of a well stooked field
The shortening of days into winter
and the ever present stars
joined by the dance
of Northern
lights
Within each season she has watched
the play of seasons of each day
men return from roundup
children from their play
While she waits always at the center
to warm and love and feed
and safely tuck away
AWAY FROM THE BUILDINGS
AWAY FROM THE BUILDINGS
To the North is the ranchland
a soft cloth crumpled
To the South ironed
flat and stretched tight
to the treeless shores of the legend lake
And there is a difference in the day
when you stay in the flatlands
or go up into the hills
THE DAY I SAW THE UFO
THE DAY I SAW THE UFO
I’m sitting
with my back against the tractor tire
eating lunch in the long field by the lake
It flies over
directly South to North
plenty high and far from humanly fast
It is made of a metal that shines out of itself
I rise with a smile
brush the crumbs from my jeans
set my eyes on the furrow
and let out the clutch
WINTER NIGHT – PRAIRIE
WINTER NIGHT – PRAIRIE
Coyote joins me
howling at the moon
Much lonelier to appear
in a million city eyes unseen
BLUE EYED BOY
BLUE EYED BOY
Blue eyed boy
blasts off from breakfast like a quail on a rail
Collie dog leaps on board
and they’re off across the prairie
barely touching the tops of hills
Sun gives warmth or cloud gives shade
all depending on his whim
birds and rocks and swaying grass
everything living embraces him
Burrs don’t stick and thorns don’t prick
even fences joining in the play
happily turning their barbs away
Floating along on the wings of four
not long now till they slam that door