Monthly Archives: July 2017

HEREFORD EYES

 

 

On the edge of irrigated green
grazing toward morning shade,
she’s on vacation, calf gone

as another stirs in her belly
to fulfill the appetites of a reckless
race she’ll never know.

Behind the barbed wire, safe
beyond the thistles, she’s content
to gossip days with girlfriends,

to contemplate a moment
for undisturbed hours—perfecting
poetry within her heavy skull.

 

METAMORPHOSIS

 

 

Bullfrog pollywogs
leap to gasp warm July air
prior to croaking.

 

AT THE GATE

 

 

On the other side,
senses tuned
to the endless spectacle,

I have not time to waste
on unresolved plotless dramas,
soap opera sideshows.

Disbelief and bad acting
have held me paralyzed
at the gate—it’s time

to turn away
and let my mind graze
on its own.

                         for Ted Waddell