Poem on the Grange
Like a presumptuous pauper sits the grange on top of the agrarian landscape
The white house’s presence is announced miles before the rocked dirt road scratches tired tires
Sentinel raindrops welcome dusty travelers as swallows spin on aerial trapeze above
Mr. Manly’s air-aided layout leaves room for a wide walrus to slide across the great room floor
accompanied by his friend the elephant
Usually the hall settles for energetic elves motoring around the expanse with three-wheeled, two-footed power
The grange patio extends eleven miles over wheat, Denver and the Rockies
It swallows sauvignon vistas through its clear window eyes and sheds tears in two leather laz-e-boys
The fire department expects to alarm occupants of daily conflagrations igniting the clouds
Home, home on the grange,
Where the flies and the antelope play.
Where alone on the farm, stands the eccentric white barn
where the cousins can play all day.
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