WESTERN

She has arrived with wind and rain, singing
gusts lifting leaves first up, then down canyon
after weeks of trapped gray haze silently holding

the other world at arm’s length, a dull weight
blurring details, concealing brown hills of cattle—
after weeks of blind confinement I watch gray

clouds sail between ridgetops, collide and collect
into a roar of hail to pelt the metal roof. She is alive
and full of dark emotion loosed roughly upon us

all, undressing trees, last year’s dry leaves
hung on, patiently awaiting this crescendo before
circling the sun, begun once more with storm.

She walks the edge of violence, this canyon her cauldron
of low clouds stirred with a pinch of fear, bare oaks
swim against the wind, wild door cracked to swinging

off its hinges as we ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ like children
through the window from the woodstove. After
she moves on at dusk, I want to watch a movie

with rough ‘n tumble characters, broke horses,
good cattle, gunplay and sex, no advertisements
and a jug of wine to cap and celebrate the day.

One response to “WESTERN

  1. AMEN!!!!!

    Like

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