Knee-deep in filaree,
fiddleneck,and foxtails
with wild oats coming
on a precipice
where there is no trail
to the bottom
of Lake Kaweah—
posing for a drone,
for a documentary
as a cowman, as a poet.
I’ve poured concrete,
plumbed galvanized pipe
and electrified a pump
this week, and still
have work to do.
drycrikjournal 