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.


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