a barn

a barn,

or some railroad cars,

hard to tell for sure,

but pretty in the afternoon sun.

Douglas Polk

under attack

a flower under attack,

insects lay siege,

the flower their new country,

for the chosen few.

Douglas Polk

a story

a story told,

a circle at a time,

hard to follow,

any time of the year.

Douglas Polk

the fourth

fireworks,

stars and stripes,

and red, white,

and blue,

tradition endangered,

as temperatures rise,

all across July.

Douglas Polk

poles in the sun

poles in the sun,

with shadows on the ground,

the river high,

with melting snow.

Douglas Polk

blue eyes

 blue eyes staring,

cold as ice,

unknown his crime,

or circumstance,

I only wanted to be freed from his gaze.

Douglas Polk

dancing eye

 a dancing eye,

keeping time to the music,

as shivers run down my spine.

Douglas Polk