by tyler stenson © 2006 — ASCAP
My memories are a series of backyard cul-de-sacs
That smell of fresh cut grass and juniper.
Wyoming sunsets burned and
Crickets sang their hearts as the sky turned orange
And mother called us in from the day.
In one particular backyard
Sat a stagnant John Deer tractor that remained
Green all year round
As it rested quietly in the shade
Of the Bellevue Alley shrubbery
(No more than ten feet from the fence line).
A younger Me could turn the ruins of
Once Great Machines into a dream.
This useless tractor was fully functional
In the eyes of a younger me-
Those eyes saw fearlessly a cowboy
With buckles and leather and mouths to feed
And dried up fields that desperately
Need a farmer’s touch.
A younger Me could go and do great things in the shade,
While the rest of the yard was green-
How it glistened in the sunlight.
Lisa. Please watch over me;
Write it down in your memory that I-
I was a child lost in a daydream.
She would say Only boring people get bored.
So, today I’ll be plowing a field and
Corralling cattle before the dust storm.
Disintegrating are the chances for our lunch break-
There is too much work to be done today and
The cattle won’t milk themselves.