

manks_dawbs
a poem because i am a cowboy posted Sep 18 2008 by manks_dawbs

across the wondering prairie bleak,
words thunder past but do not speak
of where they've been
or done or seen,
nor do they tell who used them last,
or if the sound they make is past
or yet to surface
not surpass;
a breeze that rustles leaves at night
and leads us on this restless flight
will soon enough just disappear,
and will we ask it:
are you here?