
Among the old timers
I tried my hand at similes
after a good slow rain
when it was warm and wet enough
to start the grass, they'd say
“thick as hair on a dog’s back.”

Among the old timers
I tried my hand at similes
after a good slow rain
when it was warm and wet enough
to start the grass, they'd say
“thick as hair on a dog’s back.”
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged photography, poetry, rain, weather

1.
Honed peaks and ridges
cut the clear blue sky
and lagging cumulus rising
between storms,
as we await the tail
of a Bomb Cyclone
predicted for our metal roof
with coffee before daylight—
or so we pray.
2.
Slow in—slow out.
Gray clouds clinging
to the hillsides,
four hundredths all day—
58 high,
52 low after
an all-night soaker
with little runoff
to start the grass.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged photography, poetry, rain, weather

We trust the rain,
the early stirring of colored leaves,
our synapses electrified
before it leaks from the gray—
storms absorbed, the darkening
of settled dust as the wet thatch
of old feed folds
to hold the damp explosion
of open-handed cotyledons—
renewed miracles of life,
iridescent greens become tall
heads heavy with seed
to feed ourselves and others,
the wild and tame, crazed and sane
denizens of this planet.
We trust in rain.
We pray for rain
and wait.
Posted in Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged photography, poetry, rain, weather

Exeter, California mural painted by Morgan McCall and Mitchell-Veyna in 1996
He ain't got no loan
Cant grow no corn
He ain't got no loan
- Levon Helm (“Poor Old Dirt Farmer”)
A cattlemen’s get-together,
a fund-raising dinner—awards
and not-so-silent auctions
at the end of summer
before the calves come,
to rub shoulders with the neighbors
who’ve gotten older
or by surprise disappeared
altogether
like the uneven ground shrinking
for grazing cattle
and our flat ground sinking
with too much pumping
on the same old cow.
The banks are nervous
with farm ground worth
half of what it was
without water
to plant and raise a crop
to feed us
and pay the growing costs
(plus taxes and interest)
and threaten to foreclose
on homesteads with row crops
or orchards in piles
that have become bare ground
to develop, for speculators
to make small fortunes
for corporate investors.
Mom and Pop
have moved to town,
following the kids
the land couldn’t support—
but it’ll be so much easier
for everyone to shop
for third world groceries
at the Wall Street outlets.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry
Tagged agriculture, banks, farms, food, loans, photography, poetry, SGMA, subsidence, Sustainable Groundwater management Act, water

Hunter’s Supermoon – Photo: Robbin’s I-Phone
Inhaling darkness spiked with chilled silence
soothes the synapses, spares the soul
with deep breaths released to space
beyond this combative planet and its grumbling
eruptions, its mindless explosions
of patriotic hatred. Ingesting the cool blackness
purifies a moment, relief on an early morning
clean slate to begin with, to try again
to write something worth reading.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Hunter's Moon, photography, poetry, Supermoon

The redbud's broad green leaves
float on long stems
from the stump I’ve left behind
half-dozen times instead
of digging it up
to chase insistent roots
with a shovel, unearthing
its bed of fat succulents
outside my window.
So determined,
it has even lifted a flower pot
to find the sunlight.
On light gusts it waves
in the corner of my eye
to interrupt my thoughts
as if a visitor arriving
with something important
to tell me.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry
Tagged determination, persistence, photography, poetry, Redbud, roots

With so many holes in my memory
what remains seems like yesterday.
I jettisoned the shameful first,
then turned the irrational loose
to make room for the moment
before it slips away.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Cord McKee, memory, moment, photography, poetry

It sounds like a drug
for the infirmed
or a dressing for horses’ hooves
or a government program
to keep poverty alive
and consuming—
it sounds soothing
to the summer-baked subconscious,
a galactic reprieve
before the leaves rain
in gusts
before the first storm
stirs weathered flesh.
Autumnal Equinox
just rolls off the tongue.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged autumnal equinox, photography, poetry