Prairie Poetry   
  Notes On Small Towns

there is a smell to main street
the hot dry of a small town
a smell of weathered wood
seething under the midday sun

demi-tasse nests are tucked under eaves
a fence line of preening barn swallows
waits for the evening hatch
swarms of mosquitoes      clouds of black gnats

thistles coerce life
from gravel beds of railway tracks
rusting epitaph      crumbling ties
to abandoned horizons

a billow of dust chases a truck
rumbling across the rails
aiming for the hotel bar
doors swing open      slam shut

  Joan Hoekstra
  Copyright © 2003 Joan Hoekstra
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