Tag Archives: storm

Prairie Flyer – Part VI

Prairie Flyer – VI

By morning, Kansas’ sunflowers were barely peeking through the snow
and a hearty Kansas’ blackbird, bigger than a carrion crow,
was finding it tough to find some food….waddling close by Harley’s goat,
that Harley had let out about 4:30 ‘cause I heard him clear his throat
as he tussled with the stuck door.

“Looks like I’m here a while,” I said to Harley’s back
who nodded and smiled and took up the bacon and put it on a rack
and poured me more coffee…”Glad to have you here, Jake.
How do you want those eggs?  I’ve got some biscuits ready to bake..
Has the radio said much about the storm?”

“They say it hit from Utah to the Cumberland Plateau;
a lot of outages and people stranded, as far as they know,”
I told him as we tightened our boots, getting ready to go outside
to gas up the John Deere plow……to push some snow aside,
that is…. after eating our eggs and drinking another cup.

By late afternoon, Harley’s airstrip was done
and Sarah Jane was now ready for the gatling gun
that I would re-mount before leaving for the trip back home
in the morning if it wasn’t windy, I thought, as my comb
stung my head…. sticking in the matted hair.

The shower made me sleepy and I was afraid that if I sat,
the searing heat from the fireplace would see to it…. that….
I would fall asleep too soon and Harley would let me sleep
and his venison stew was smelling good so I got a broom to sweep
and it was then that we heard the first report.

(continued – Prairie Flyer – VII

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Filed under airplanes, barnstormer, prairie, prairie flyer

A Beholder’s Beauty

A Beholder’s  Beauty

She sits near by me in constant stare
on porch where a breeze disturbs her hair
as I drink my coffee in a dreamy state;
my mind still heavy, not yet awake.

The sky is laden with clouds of gray.
The air is moistened in falling spray.
Across the field a sound is born
and gives a notice to the coming storm.

The driving rain obscures the field
it comes our way like a thrusting shield.
The raindrops fall; her eyes in squint
that glare at me for any hint

that maybe we will go inside
so she can find a place to hide
from thunder clasps and the wind’s hiss
as she begs the comfort from a hug and kiss.

A beautiful collie my eyes adorn
my constant pal since she was born
with constant fix upon my path
her eyes bestow the love she hath

From room to room she follows me
from near or far her presence be
and whimpers wildly with heart in burn
when I leave home and when I return.

Beauty bounds most everywhere
we have to look; we have to stare
in weeds and rocks and dusty boards
to find the beauty that nature hoards.

The beholder’s eyes see beauty’s heart
in all of life; in every part.
and gathers not a summary of
but shares an insight of nature’s love.

T. J. Gargano

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Through the Windows of an Amtrak train

While waiting for the California Zephyr out on the platform recently, I thought back at some of the trips taken previously over the same stretch of track and wondered why I never get tired of the trip.  In fact, I always get excited anticipating the moment.  The truth must be that we never get tired or bored with the things we truly love………no matter what that might encompass.  That doesn’t mean, I don’t think, that because we are bored with something,  that we don’t love it.  I hope not.

But anyway, I also wrote this quick little triolet.  Hope your travels are happy ones.

 Through the Windows of an Amtrak Train

Through the windows of an Amtrak train
you can see America come alive.
You might see a snowstorm, tornado or just rain
through the windows of an Amtrak train.
Going through towns, over rivers, you might see a plane –
for sure, a Wal-Mart and MacDonald’s when you arrive.
Through the windows of an Amtrak train
you can see America come alive.

copyright © 2011 T.J. Gargano

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Winter’s Long

The Illinois winter was not overly severe or cold last year, but because it started early in October, and consistently rendered  ice and snow repeatedly and frequently into the month of March, it became, on the minds of many, long and dreary.  One day I had to say something….

 

Winter’s  Long

Winter’s worn her coat too long.
It’s time the winds bring summer back.
Birds are busy but not with song
Winter’s worn her coat too long.
And February’s temperatures, so cold, seem wrong
And it’s hard to remember the dirt, black.
Winter’s worn her coat too long.
It’s time the winds bring summer back.

copyright © 2011 T.J. Gargano

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Filed under poetry, snow, winter