
The black hole in the barn
has grown since August
as we peel-off long green
(high-dollar hay) vacuumed-up
by cows nursing hungry calves.
Al the prognosticators
tease us with promises
of thunderstorms tonight
if only to settle the dust.

The black hole in the barn
has grown since August
as we peel-off long green
(high-dollar hay) vacuumed-up
by cows nursing hungry calves.
Al the prognosticators
tease us with promises
of thunderstorms tonight
if only to settle the dust.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged alfalfa hay, Calves, cows, Drought, photography, poetry, weather, weathermen
No rare, sixteen-ounce Chile Verde Rib Eye leftovers to box for home, no Iceberg Old School wedge with Blue Cheese crumbles, no red wine bottle at twice the price to finish before leaving town—no spoiling us these Covid days, though we tire of our own cooking, of feeding hay without rain. Bare acres, not a spear of feed half-way up the mountain, these good cows wait with their calves at the gate for dinner.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2020, Ranch Journal
Tagged alfalfa hay, Covid-19, cows and calves, Drought, feeding, rain
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged alfalfa hay, future, Replacement Heifers
Following fifty tons
through light showers
across Nevada,
big alfalfa bales
towards our dry
California home,
we focus on raindrops
streaking reality
after a week of poetry
and song, to feel
our poor possibilities
grow by the truckload—
heavy with an endless
emptiness in our bellies
beneath the straps
of seat belts
before another wreck.
We hang on.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged alfalfa hay, Drought, National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, Nevada, photographs, poetry, rain, weather