My father plied economics
to everything—cows, feed
and even rain, hoping
his demand for wonder
might supply it. Greenheads
rising from the cattails,
sunrise cut and streaked
into separate beams
by Sawtooth and the Kaweahs,
he looked for God beyond
the numbers, and saw
enough to be disappointed
in mankind. He spared
our living with his being
right in ninety-seven,
spared the politicians
written lectures, and left
to watch the show—
forever assured
that no tree grows
to the sky.
drycrikjournal 
You are in the zone, John. Again, thanks for making my day.
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