No fanfare here, no trumpet’s blare
before day breaks the ridgeline,
no attaboys, no outside noise
to diffuse the summertime,
no accolades but breeze and shade
within short circles lined
with water here and dry feed there,
and a trail of dust behind.
Like cattle
we plod
the heat,
mesmerized
by the rhythm
of our feet
leaning
towards evening’s
G & T.
drycrikjournal 
Love it!
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👍 Susan Ditz
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With the heat, dry and dust, do you ever dream of a northern ranch and the unique problems they must have such as snow and perhaps more predators, etc.? The “ol’ grass is greener”.
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Of course. But we’re still learning here. We’d be a babes in the woods trying to run cows anywhere else, just not young enough to start fresh.
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