Too tame to survive
the last day of the season
but with careful luck.
~
Weekly Photo Challenge (2): “Careful”
Too tame to survive
the last day of the season
but with careful luck.
~
Weekly Photo Challenge (2): “Careful”
Posted in Haiku 2015, Poems 2010, Ranch Journal
1.
Don’t care,
go anywhere,
eat anything—leave little
evidence behind, but
barefoot tracks,
whole berries in black scat.
2.
Drought and fire,
slim pickin’s high,
bears lumber off the mountain,
hundreds in canyons
trying to make a living
on damn few acorns—
grubbing for bugs,
trashing trash cans
taking pets and an occasional calf.
Shaggy invaders
from the past
like science fiction.
3.
Oso,
Ursus arctos
own the moonlit mountain town
on Halloween,
rummage door to door,
wait on the porch for more
of anything to eat.
Trick or treat.
The birds sleep later now,
new guests in boughs without nests,
overwintering—coyotes and bobcats
hunt late in the morning chill
as we wait for sun
to break the ridge line,
eager and easy into the day
now that it’s rained
enough to start the grass,
settle four years’ dust—
cotyledons claim puddle mud,
arms open to new light.
Behaving much like ladybugs exiting the ground around the post that holds our rain gauge at the corrals in Greasy last Saturday, I am assuming they are one of 5,000 species of Ladybird Beetles I wasn’t able to identify. No macro, using the point and shoot, click to enlarge the unusual patterns.
On Horehound, October 17, 2015
Feedback from Facebook identifies these as Box Elder bugs.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Box Elder Bugs, entomology, ladybird beetles, Ladybugs
Metal roof
machine gun fire,
strobe lightening
and rolling thunder:
cracks rip black
with jagged light,
redbud silhouettes
dance with the dark
like the Fillmore,
like the Shrine—
endless bass
rocks the canyon,
canons bark with flame
and the war goes on and on.
Moist breath,
eager heart electrified
not to be contained
within old skin.
On stage:
the Doors
Janis Joplin wild with
Jimi Hendrix crescendos.
Last flashes break with dawn.
Inch-seventeen all in the ground—
she hasn’t lost her touch
with how to make it rain.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged Fillmore, lightening, rain, Shrine Hall, storm, thunder
October slips away from the sun
sliding south down the ridgeline
after a quick rain clears
the air,
settles summer’s dust,
erases tracks
for a day:
another beginning
to another adventure—
nearly 25,000 now.
No calls from beyond
Sulphur Peak:
old friend
to generations waking
from dreams and restless sleep.
On top in the brush
a 2” x 2” surveyor’s pole,
a Challenge Butter buck
not quite in rut.
Spring poppy overlay of gold
winter cap of snow—
never naked,
always changing clothes.
~
Weekly Photo Challenge: “(Extra)ordinary”
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged dawn, October, Sulphur Peak, weekly-photo-challenge
Glass in-hand,
we toast the dark morning’s
thunder and lightning
to the afternoon rumble
of another trace
from gray skies.
We have grown older
waiting—wishing, hoping,
praying to any god to hear—
for this time of year
when it might rain.
Skeletons and broken limbs, old friends
of two or three centuries passing seasons
in one another’s shade, listening
to fathers telling sons how to survive.
Clumps of brown and yellow mistletoe
hang from arms like grapes becoming raisins,
all giving-in and giving-up their ghosts,
their loosening bark in lieu of acorns
to this bear invasion as the canyons
and draws crawl with shaggy scavengers
after the war is over—as the slowly fading
wounded watch, brittle roots without water.
This old girl will never be the same,
not reclaim her lush good looks
for generations that will never know
the difference nor her endless bounty.
Nothing stays the same beyond the void
of emptiness—everlasting, ever changing.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal