BRUNK HOWARD


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summer song

A drought's settled in.

And plants are dying.

Everything's the way it’s supposed to be.

I can smell chicken frying.


Cars burn asphalt.

Sun burns grass.

Cindy says easily,

"No need to even ask.”


A summer wind is blowing in

A soft, sweet summer song.

The sound tells you

It’s exactly where it belongs.


Only thing growing is weeds,

Growing all over the place.

A satellite's looking down at us

From a cold outer space.


It’s been watching for a long time;

Got everything in range.

Two horses are pulling it.

Some things just don’t change.


My feet are looking

For nuts under all the leaves.

It’s not a question of faith.

You just got to believe.


Eyes are dancing

In a stack of hay.

I hear romancing.

I don’t want them sounds to ever go away.


A summer wind is blowing in

A soft, sweet summer song.

The sound tells you

It’s exactly where it belongs.


A stranger asks me.

If I’m looking for inspiration.

I’m just trying to avoid a dry ditch

That was built for irrigation.


Cows are drifting

In a soft, summer day.

The hillside offers them footing

As it grows their hay.


Their ears go the distance

Reach their big cow eyes.

That comes in real handy

When they’re shooing flies.


Cows don’t use their tongues

When they take a drink.

And they don’t use them

When it’s time to think.


Cows use their tongues

When they eat grass.

That’s the kind of thinking

That is built to last.


It’s great to be alive

To feel a moment of bliss.

Trick is knowing how to survive

And see it for what it is.


Politician's thinking,

Thinking with his tongue.

Cows are all thinking

It’s time to be heading south and then some.


And me, I’m thinking

About those sounds in the hay.

I got a splinter.

You always got to pay.


A summer wind is blowing in

A soft, sweet summer song.

The sound tells you

It’s exactly where it belongs.