Black morning’s fresh
downcanyon breath
primes old flesh
to ride first light
as it breaks the ridge
like yesterday’s charge
easy and alive in my mind.
All the good horses gone,
I’m ready for a stranger
that can walk out,
hold a cow and wink
through loose tethers—
actually believing
it could be hours away.
Only this time
we’ll do it better.
… (I) don’t think hurricanes
like to follow predicted paths.
–Brian Grant
The prognosticators have claimed
the climate spotlight—used science
to explain why we read poetry
when our dehydrated atmosphere
rains rivers and spawns hurricanes
while the earth is spinning faster than it should—
its fractious friction warming waters
to forge the passion of whales and otters
to object and retaliate.
Watching the weather map of Baja California,
new science is driving out a percentage
of the old that we believed was true.
Posted in POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged climate change, Dry Creek, hurricane hilary, otters, poetry, rain, science, water, weather, whales
I have cut myself away
from the entangled coils
of ship and state
drawn more to songs
among the cactus cuckoos
at first light of dawn—
tossed across the pasture
deep-throated news
I can depend on
while a lone quail hollers
to awaken coveys
like children for school.
But I still don’t trust
the cry-baby whines
of our arrogant Ring Neck’s.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry
Tagged news media, photography, poetry, politics, quail, Ring Neck Dove, Roadrunners
It sounds like MASH as helicopters fly over the house, back and forth to Lake Kaweah, to address 8 fires set this a.m. between 6:30 and 6:45. All but a couple of fires in rough terrain are contained. Three weeks ago we had 4 sets. Every year we blade about 3 miles of firebreak between us and the road with our skid steers. Additionally fixed wing aircraft and a DC 10 jet, 2 dozers, and about 50 engines and water tenders are on the job as I write.
The spring rains brought good feed and fuel for fire that has attracted our society’s deranged, whether gang initiations or other odd and complex maladies. Needless to say, we’ll keep our eyes peeled.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged arson, CalFire, CDF, Fire, fire bugs, fire insurance, photography
April calves load easy here
for unknown destinations
looking back to say goodbye
to someone lost
in the muddled moment’s
brain fog.
Old between brothers,
we remember stories
the other’s forgot—
a thrill on spry legs
to dance through time
as if young all over again.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry
Called too soon, persistence rooted
where peaceful dreams beneath their leaves
spilled downhill at dawn—a slow awakening
like death in reverse, never thinking
of other ways to pass the time. Weathered
skeletons of young Blue Oaks cling
to where their acorns fell to rest
before the wet and stormy springs
kept a chance of an idyllic life alive.
Truth is: no right or wrong of it—
no philosophy to make fit
what we’ll not need to understand.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023
Tagged Acorns, Blue Oaks, death, death in reverse, Drought, life, photography, poetry, rain, water, weather
Black backs
through summer light
across the road beside the creek
grazing green
upon a highwater sand bank
deposited by atmospheric rivers.
Black backs
of virgin children, our future
breathes in 105 heat.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, future, photography, poetry, rain, Replacement Heifers, weather
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