The Nose Hairs Burn
Let windows fly
The grass has died
Under skies too clear to care or cry
Cedar, sound of chainsaws, wonder why
The nose hairs burn
They’ve had their turn
In a blue sweatshirt I’ll take mine now
Every leaf will know my kneel and bow
Keith Jackson’s voice almost a smell
“See me, notice, hear me well’
All that’s gone for now.
© August 27, 1992 John Brocato
The grass has died
Under skies too clear to care or cry
Cedar, sound of chainsaws, wonder why
The nose hairs burn
They’ve had their turn
In a blue sweatshirt I’ll take mine now
Every leaf will know my kneel and bow
Keith Jackson’s voice almost a smell
“See me, notice, hear me well’
All that’s gone for now.
© August 27, 1992 John Brocato