It’s still easy to get lost for a little while
on cow trails leading to water beyond
outcrops of lichen-stained fractured rock
and the thick draws of tunneled Manzanita
that claw the flesh and bleed the will
to find yourself OK with the dialogue
in your mind as you name landmarks
and give them meaning. You should hear
whispers from the old men you remember,
words from birds and see both grace
and fright in dancers engrained in place,
rooted in what remains of another world.
I want to be there, riding where I can see those mountains.
janet
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The photo was taken last February after nearly 3″ of rain in the foothills, the grass with a slow start. Though the jagged edge of the Great Western Divide remains the same as long as you’re looking from the same place, it seldom looks as beautiful as this. If you’re riding, its beauty ever-changing. The cow on the near ridge is legendary.
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