Poem 28

Hi, folks. As promised, I have written a poem. Because I'm tempted at this juncture to write romantic poems due to meeting and enjoying the company of a nice lady, I thought I'd rustle up something from the archives and revise it. It's one I can't say when I started, but it used to end with, "Come and see; a way is prepared. / A lamp shines upon the way." I think I wanted it to sound biblical for some reason. Anyway, I got rid of that and tried to go back to the stars thing at the end.
This is probably one of those poems that should really be two different shorter ones. Oh well. Have a good week.

Noticing the Sky over Seattle

The stars all packed up and moved to the plains.
They must have found new homes
between the branches of elms
and in pastures of sky over wheat.
The high-rise and traffic light had moved in
and lowered property values of space
over the cities where we squirm
into condos and onto busses.

As one woman waits at the clinic,
remembering sunsets
at the end of a hay-bucking day,
a child learns how cold the morning feels
to her cheek against a car window
on the way to day care.

At the edge of cities
where we don’t notice them much,
old two-lanes wait like steam engines,
like the last train to another year, yesterday.
Their asphalt cracking,
They get dragged along
with the clap-board barns and old men
into the future,
when stars crowd the sky full to bursting.