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Backroads
by
Marilyn J. Fleming


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—of my youth
unfamiliar
mockingbird trills
 
weathered silo 
abandoned 
pasture headstone      
 
wild phlox
purpling a rusted plow—
corn crib bones
 
open stone walls
expose gutters— stanchions
a soaring hawk
 
shagbark tree trunk 
threads barbed wire
hickory husks
 
pigeon shadows
windmill turning—turning  
morning glory 
 
red barns
fading to a whimper
only skeletons
 
 

This poem first appeared in Fox Cry Review (April 2014).
Used here with the author’s permission.

 

Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Marilyn Fleming was born and raised on a dairy farm in Wisconsin, an experience that often makes its way into her poetry. A fan of oriental forms of poetry, Marilyn’s work has appeared in various literary journals she hopes to have her first chapbook completed before the end of the year. A prolific reader who also loves gardening, Marilyn lives in Pewaukee, Wisconsin with her husband, Keith. Learn more about her at marilynflemingpoet.wordpress.com.

 

 

New comments are closed for now.
Jo:
Welcome. Welcome. What a lovely surprise this afternoon. Beautiful poem.
Posted 07/25/2015 01:11 PM
transitions:
Beautiful imagery, thank you for sharing your memories ~
Posted 07/25/2015 01:03 PM
MichaelEddie:
Go, Marilyn. If they're anything at all like this, you'll have a fine chapbook.
Posted 07/25/2015 08:55 AM
Dorcas:
Pleasant times we have passed through, such a part of us andwe are grateful that they were there for us. But, the wonder of the future still remains.
Posted 07/25/2015 05:00 AM


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