Kickapoo Creek is bare as bone.
Its bed has cracked.
Its springs have sprung …
Summer in Minnesota. Sometimes you're the windshield, but most often you're lunch for the Bugs.
Did You See the Cloud?
Did you see the cloud, love? One, big cottony sail Lying so still against an azure sea Moving now, gently on summer's sweet sigh
in the middle of the garden,
rooted deep within the soil,
in between robust flowers
sat this one who watched, waited
as the sun drenched them for hours.>
Take me on a Sunday trip.
I don't care - anywhere you want to go.
Goin' to the Farm
Goin’ to the farm.
See that dirt road wind.
I’m leavin’ all the problems
Of the city far behind.
The anole stopped
and stared at me.
He didn’t seem afraid at all.
I turned my head and he was gone …
I. Looking out her window in the gray November,
She saw the squirrel in his leafless tree,
fretting, nattering constantly
She heard the goose's call resound
As rhythmic wings carried him through space.
Bringing him to a warmer place.
Maybe it's because of the beauty of this area but the people here are among the friendliest, most good-natured, and warm-hearted that I have met anywhere.