Monthly Archives: July 2025

MY RIVER

runs over boulders,
spills and spumes
into deep green pools

or into cutbanks
exposing roots
hiding rainbow trout

beneath a dogwood’s
white blooming
I can’t let go.

Overgrown, no room
for a kid to cast
a deer hair fly—

fresh flow of time
behind me now
I go there yet

without thinking,
without yearning,
with nothing more

than feeling
the untamed current
still run through me.

Cowboy Poetry Gatherings

I haven’t the technological expertise to offer Amy Hale’s exceptional Substack post for the kind of attention it deserves, but please take the time read it via this link:

https://amymariehale.substack.com/p/cowboy-poetry-gatherings?r=4a25vl&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email&triedRedirect=true

Amy Hale photos

Sea Chest Oyster Bar

Whether poetry or prose, it’s been difficult to post to the blog under the current political atmosphere of chaos and confusion that has become addicting for those of us who are still hoping to ferret out the truth. Though adding to the whole mess with more political poems is difficult to resist, with few facts, they are seldom enlightening. Like so many other people, we’ve not only sought ways to wean ourselves from the “latest”, but celebrate the positive with the many uplifting alternatives that surround us, reminders of the joy and grace that plays out before our eyes if we keep them open.

We shipped our last load of calves in the middle of May, and since selected our replacement heifers that will get their Brucellosis vaccinations on Wednesday. We will start supplementing them and our 1st and 2nd calf heifers soon thereafter as we prepare them to calve in September. Our carrot has been the 50th Anniversary of the Sea Chest Oyster Bar in Cambria (70 degrees). A month long celebration, we were in attendance for a couple of enjoyable nights.

Back home to 100+ degrees:

The distant hawk’s bare branch at dawn
awaits fuzzy-headed movement
to fall like an arrow fledged with patience.

The sun crawls across the flats
without a sound, wild oats bent
like blond hair combed into the light.

Shadows stretch beneath hillside oaks
into the puddled creek where an egret
goes fishing before breakfast.