Fly-over Country

Description? This is a poem about stuff... Hows That?

They call it fly-over country.

Standing here in the middle of an ancient empty flood plain I wonder how few people’s feet have tread this ground from generations past; Their footprints fading away like their memory.

A hound bays somewhere off in the direction of an old barn, probably not far away but nothing moves, including sound, in the cold thin crisp morning air.

The clouds hang as jagged as a newly minted mountain range hung upside down from the sky.

I can feel the massive weight of this newer continent underneath my feet. 

The jet engines above sound like one long peal of thunder.

I take a deep breath and inhale my cig. As I play with the smoke and let it gently waft from my nostrils, I wonder what else I’ve been missing all my life.

Author's Note

I dont even know if my crap is any good. Any feed back is appreciated...especially if i feel like its honest.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

You are good at creating an atmosphere and also with imagery. The picture likening the clouds to an upside down mountain range was quite unique. You also leave us wanting to know more about the speaker and why he thinks he's missed so much. All in all, a good job.

PS: Take another look at "peel" in the last stanza. I believe it should be "peal."

[MeathooksMcGee]

Thanks John.

Sorry too hear about your beheading.

[MeathooksMcGee]

Also, please recommend a piece of yours to read.

[John the Baptist]

Meathooks,
Beheading is really the most merciful form of capital punishment; over in an instant. The problem is that now I don't know what to do with my hats.
If you want to read one of mine, try "Solace."