MISSING CATTLE

 

 

We never quite give-in to the ground,
though it shapes faces and scars our flesh—
mountains and canyons worn apart

from the crowd, our trained brains taught
to see the smaller things while looking out
over purple ranges to snow white teeth

sunk sharply into the blue, blue sky
after a cold rain clears the air, erases
tracks, cleans all but the near at hand

climbing higher for the tallest green
hidden in the old, gray grass, mildewing—
cows and calves full atop the ridge,

friends and family lying in leafless shade
looking out beyond the perfect dreams
of our calculations ever coming out.

 

One response to “MISSING CATTLE

  1. That is the way it is.”they slowly leak back to our control”. Pat

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s