Hands in the Barn

Working in the barn

Burnt ropes with wirey abrasion

Tender skin hoping for evasion

Wind blown grass

And summer sun

Splintered wood on floors broken

Stairs old yet not forgotten

This is where work is done on a Thursday night

Preparing for the next days engagement

Needing a cleaning before the arrangement

People will gather soon to celebrate

What makes life so joyful and happy

The walls full of webs will bloom into life

Wood dull old and crass

Will jump out with new vibes

Shaking the conversations out of the folks

While they enjoy a cocktail and a smoke

All in this barn set on an Indiana field

I will smile and be happy

When this old barn gives it’s yield

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