here, all the trees are evergreen
steady amidst the bone-deep chill
for only they can pierce the sky
and root so deeply to be unmoved

oh, our beautiful iron maiden

where the gilded spikes stand tall,
steady amidst the suffering
for only they can pierce our hearts
and be unmoved by the screams

After all these years
when i step into
the land of rye
i can still hear summer
its most authentic heartbeat
roar of the machine takes over
from the rasping scythe
cutting through stalks
when the grains are harvested to the barn
they'll be no more painful stubble at the feet
after many years
the summer is still so **** hot
i like it just as before
the season of mellow mango scent
and pleasant earthly aroma of barley
though all beings are a little deflated
no one wishes to light the flame
at the moment i miss the dense woods in the distance
because that's where cool breezes are born
i appreciate the hospitality of the cotton and corn
they keep bringing the joy of maturity
flowers are exceptionally generous
they keep painting the landscape
standing on the fresh verdant ground
let the rainstorm clean my dusty soul
summer is the season of zeal
i will extract the poetic fragrance
on every lush green plant
so that folks longing for a peaceful mind
can get a peaceful lyrical feeling
across this summer
i especially like the other side of the water
where i can dance with the shy lotus
this summer i've gathered
a bowlful of poems to read
with you.

We watch it ache and screech,
Tortured for some mercy in its misery,
We’re not allowed to wring its neck
All because the law can love a crow

Every time I mention its pain,
I get scolded. Chastised. Reminded.
This is farming country: and no one loves a crow
They eat the eyes of helpless, newborn lambs
All because farming country loves a lamb
Especially one they can eat themselves

The call on the phone goes nowhere,
Just like that now flightless, punished bird,
Concerns dismissed by automated machines,
No one bothers to come after the tone,
All because no one loves a crow.

They say you are just an old gravel country road
lined by trees on both sides for many a mile
but for me you are the path of escape
that leads me away from here

I often fantasize about what I would discover at your ending
akin to finding out what lies at the end of a rainbow
would it be glee or disappointment

It is said there is a great city somewhere along your route
one filled with opportunity and excitement
Containing things a rural being cannot imagine
buildings taller than all the trees stood end on end

There have been whispers of ladies of the evening
and places where someone may imbibe in a drink or two
or parlors that entertain many a man through lonely nights

A young lad with big dreams can only yearn for passage of time
for when that day comes wherein I will traverse thee till the end
to witness for myself all that has been spoken about
and to dip my toe into a world of aliveness and intrigue

Andreas Simic©

In rural areas there is
This demon
Called
Sirenhead
Who I have seen
For this is a time
Of war
And pandemic
His favourable time
To be of public display
As for mei am not insane
For I had a witness to the sirenhead sighting
Near my old home town
Almonte

Living where I am living
No matter the seasons
It feels like
I am living in
A studio ghibli
Movie
Where everything is green
Perfect
And dream like
I wonder if my next door neighbour
Is Totoro

There was one morning
A farmer so insenced
For someone
Put beautiful crop
Circles
Geometric in nature
In his wheat field that
Called the police
A man of science
The farmer
Didn’t believe in aliens
But was it the work of vandalism
Or
Is the truth out there

As I drive
By a field
I see  hydro towers
Hydro towers that Eriely look like
Ancient Native American
Art
I am in awwww
Only man create something
That surreal