Damn-near naked now
after good rains
without a frost
by New Years,
fleeting autumn colors
gone drab brown
before undressing.
Each twig stripped
of new growth leaves,
water pumped
into veins to see
if these fine lines
survive—and we
along for the ride.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2026, poetry, Ranch Journal
A young man’s pastoral dream
of forever meadows sprinkled with cattle
was still possible with work and rain,
with the right people and partner
to hold it, and one another, together
humbly yielding to the dry years,
the brown leaves of families:
old oaks dotting the hillsides
before saying goodbye—
before me now in a light rain upon
the green as I step gladly into it
to check the rain gauge.
