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Local Focus – Global Reach

Posted by MFish

Down in the Yakima Canyon,
Oh my sakes alive,
Did that speedometer
Pass ninety-five?
Back in the day,
Gas was 29 cents a gallon.
No emission equipment,
No four cylinder banger,]
Just big V-8's,
With plenty of horses.
Mufflers were replaced
With a Smitties, glass packs
And shiny echo cans,
Protruding under the back.
Did they make noise?
You bet they did,
After all we were still
Being a kid.
I liked to drive fast
And race if I could.
Not legal of course,
But we understood,
That we were,
Invincible.
The folly of youth
Was where we were at.
The king of the road
Or something like that.

A gentle breeze blows across my brow
as I dig holes for fall plantings.
The problem, I have, with
planting European Bluebells,
is the many roots that grow,
beneath the tree. Not big,
just small roots that must be cut.
Instructions are to plant under a tree
and they will multiply.
I'm anxious to see the results
next Spring.

Sometimes when I'm writing,
I would swear, my mind
Has thoughts of it's own.

With pen in hand, I write
The words that pop into
This brain of mine.
Writing fast, scribbling here,
Unable to read the words
As they fly by, as I attempt to
Write. Oh my goodness
There is no period in sight
To end all this rambling
Prose. There. Finally one
Did appear, but what happened
To the commas?
Did they disappear?
I wish I knew, for it would
Make it clear, that my
Writing sense is not here.

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