Tag Archives: James W. Spain II

The Snow Plow

by James W. Spain, II


Alone on the dark road
while others sleep,

from one driveway to
the next just down the road,

the ice-covered wiper blades
scrape in unison along with the radio in

the overheated truck cab
tempting me to sleep for a while.

The coffee has been endless
and the last cup has gone cold.

Bitter north winds are sweeping
the snow against lonely white pasture fences.

The four wheel drive
grasps at the frozen earth seeking traction

while the cold blade scrapes across the frozen
driveway in search of pavement.

Back and forth, back and forth
until the new dawn.

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3:00 AM

by James W. Spain, II


The dream continued
each and every evening.

The cold nights at the Vermont inn
warmed only by the fireplace

crackling in the distant
parlor

as it had for the past
two centuries.

It was as if I was living
the life of the person that shared

this same bedroom with me but
in a different time and in a different century.

The historic old Victorian
instilled a haunting feeling in

all that stayed
just for a night or two.

Perhaps it was a feeling
of contentment and inner peace or

a sentiment that
the old inn had a way of sharing.

The dream continued
each and every evening.

There Was Once A Time

by James W. Spain, II


There was once a time
when you could protect your children

from all things bad
and feel confident that nothing would leak

into their young minds
to taint the innocence of youth.

There was once a time
when you would be shocked

to see innocent people suppressed
and put to death for what they believed in

regardless of where they lived but
especially in our country and in our own back yards.

There was once a time
when you heard of strange diseases

such as a plague or pandemic
that killed many people and

showed no mercy regardless of your
social standing or class.

There was once a time,
But that time has ended.

Pheasant Season

by James W. Spain, II


The pheasant season has started,
time to retrieve my hunting jacket down the hall

where it has hung for the past year
just like my musket on the wall.

Time to join my close friends
in the woods just down the hill,

for conversation and much camaraderie,
as well as a hunt sure to thrill.

To spend the day in the forest,
perhaps hunt a bird worthy to show,

brings so much enjoyment
that only a hunter could possibly know.

Whether to put food on the table
or to just experience the hunt this fall,

I value my time with nature
much more than walking around the mall.

End of Summer

by James W. Spain, II


Every summer must come to an end
just as every story ever told,

sometimes the conclusion can be bittersweet
or sometimes the story gets old.

The air cools gently and the trees
start to show their true colors towards fall,

life seems to become a bit livelier,
with the anticipation of the seasons we recall.

Perhaps the long hot days of summer
are forgotten quickly once again this year,

and the memories of all the adventures,
mist our eyes and cause us to tear.

Or perhaps the fond memories
that we created during each long hot week,

will join us as we approach winter
and with desire of the warmth we will speak.

Regardless of the change of this season,
it does happen to us every year,

it is with some mixed emotion,
as we think of winter when days won’t be so clear.

Moment in Free Verse

by James W. Spain, II


The crystal clear lake
Without a ripple on its surface
Mirrors the distant mountains
And the deep blue sky.
The loon floats gently past
Without a care or concern,
And I sit and ponder life,
Amongst the precious sound of silence.
These are the moments
I treasure and keep,
Close to my heart,
And forever in my memory.

Friendly Robert Frost

by James W. Spain, II


As I travel this great
country of ours and engage in conversation abroad

I am always pleased to see the reaction
from those that I have engaged.

Times are tough and emotions are
running quite high with friendship quite low at times.

There was a time that people stopped
to converse and did not feel threatened

many years ago,
just like Robert Frost wrote in “A Time To Talk”.

I think it was a normal part of life,
we trusted each other and enjoyed others’ kind words.

Conversation was looked at as a regular
part of life and considered somewhat of an art.

News was spread,
and yes gossip too,

But the era prior to today’s vast
social network was filled with old fashioned conversation.

Perhaps we should all just
“Go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit”