the poetry knook, the poetry of stephen m. james

Hill over Burkesville

I site atop a hill.
No one is around.
The sun sets quiet and still.
There is a fact of nothing,
It is scaring me. I sing.
To keep my mind off of cats and wild dogs,
And is there a snake under that log?
The poem of the frontiersmen,
Isn’t all they say it is,
But I view this valley not better today,
Leaves chortle at me,
But I laugh and cry. Most have fallen.
I now ascend into the abyss of progress.


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© 1993-2026 by Stephen M. James.