The Glass Hand

Water swells and summer grass

Sand upon the evening glass

The contrast of light on dark

Upon the sky a velvet spark

A small haze of grey from cars and trucks

Full in the sky a lagoon

A muck

Creating and burning a sunset so sweet

But the sweetness is no real treat

It burns through smoke created

For all the bustling intimidated

Water gelling lapping on concrete hard

White peers waltzing on summer’s fluid

Trees lurk over houses full

Of human

And dog

And cat

Running around on the grass flat

In circles splashing on summer lawns

Fences full of splendor and hate

Making other wait

For a calling or a sweat drop

Around the corner the fruit shop

Building concrete burning in summer sun

Construction men counting seconds

Until they are done

Trains passing and divulging whistles

Upon the hills of southern Michigan

They pass with coal burning bright

Flashing lights on this summer night

The whistles whilst me to sleep

As the my eyes fall

And summer creeks

A summer day in this land

My thoughts fall through the glass hand


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