17 Miles From the Nearest Town
David J Walker
Circles of crop row quilts
Displayed from the air
The flair of a County Fair
Handing out
Blue ribbons
everywhere
Cotton lint fills the air
with Fall
It was all
we would know
For sure in
A Universe of its own making
Growing
Watering holes
In a burning land
Of gas station taverns and
Brass rows of drop-off
post office box tops
From a distance you may hear
The bellowing calf
Calling for its mother
Or the wheels of an 18-wheeler
Overloaded on the Farm to Market road
Or the sound of the spigot on the
Center pivot irrigation well
All is well
17 miles from the nearest
Town
Categories:
post office box, farm,
Form: Free verse
On The Payroll of Hillburn City New Mexico
David J Walker
Imagine
That such a lonely city
Ever existed
Placed in the middle
of two nowhere
Not worth mentioning
A single building
The gathering spot for
Farmers wives far too
Busy to drive
to either of
the distant small towns for
Coffee,
Cigarettes
Milk and bread
Old cold cuts
Maybe out of date
And the daily mail
In your post office box
In the back
The newspaper from Lubbock
In the rack
Came yesterday and was
A day late at that
Not that it matters
In a jurisdiction
Where you must
pump your own gas
and then ask
about the latest gossip
from the Constable,
Mayor, & Postmaster, and
The only
And lonely
Working citizen on the Payroll
of Hillburn City
Categories:
post office box, growing up,
Form: Rhyme