Tag Archives: dawn



The hollow sounds before daylight,

hillside Roadrunners awakening in the black,

their plaintive solos, reverberating notes


awaiting an answer, a location, a place

to be filled in the future, a pile of twigs

within the spines of cactus


beneath this soft comforter of clouds,

days trailing a meager rain to shield us

and the dew upon the grass.


The day is yet empty, moments awaiting

purpose and order. In my mind, I see

the tools I’ll need to be useful.




After the lightning

igniting fires, after the storm,

a new day dawns


with hope

and a hint of change

from the blistering summer heat


with the equinox knocking

at the door, I think

of all the jobs earmarked


for years—our growing list

of work we’ve saved

for rainy days.


The prognosticators

are unusually quiet,

don’t dare say


when to expect a rain.

I keep adding to a list

that will outlive me.





Cold canyon bottoms
watch early-rising cows graze
the warmth of first light.



Weekly Photo Challenge(2): “Transition”






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”


Dawn on the Pasture



When I arrived yesterday to change my irrigation water, a coyote was nonchalantly studying these cows and calves from just outside the fence. The cow beneath the Valley Oak was lying close to her calf, hours old. The cows, of course, knew he was there well before I did. Taking an indirect approach, coyotes will gradually work their way among the cattle acting preoccupied and harmless until they become familiar to a bunch, all the while looking for any weakness among the calves—hence the Trickster moniker.

We have completed our first month of calving and pleased with 50% of our calves on the ground, a bright spot in the middle of this drought, though our total cow numbers have been reduced by half these past four years. This is the third calf for this particular bunch of cows bred by Vintage Angus bulls.



As the light turns softer and shadows longer, early mornings can be rewarding with lots of wildlife this time of year, especially where there is water. About twenty Canadian Geese are stripping the ripe seed of the water grass elsewhere in the pasture and our little bunch of wild turkeys, that are becoming used to me and the Kubota, are rummaging for bugs where I’ve completed my irrigation.

I take my camera, never knowing what I’ll see.






Too early to know
what the day brings—
plans mixed with dreams.

Ridgelines stay the same
except rooted trees
lose their leaves

or dress in early spring
with iridescent greens
hard to imagine from August.

But the errant clouds help,
forecasting change
beginning each day.






Dawn’s soft light steaming,
rain’s last embrace still clinging,
love spent overnight.







Dear Dawn, I await you in a cavern
of wet blackness, upstate exhaust hangs
between me and the suns and stars

of my reward, (or as far as I have seen
of infinity), as the dew from the last rain
clings to each unhealthy particulate,

camouflaged to look and feel like fog.
I have missed your smile, bright eyes,
and warm touch across the landscape

of my face, but we inhale this wet veil
holding clay slopes damp, moistening
each cotyledon struggling to break free

from the earth’s grip to make grass,
turn hills green with the circumambulation
of black dots—cows and calves grazing.

Another ugly day without you, feeding
hay in gray, but it ain’t all bad—
I’ll see you when I can. xxooxxoo, J.





Summer gather,
the dawn below me,
we ride between realities.



Weekly Photo Challenge (2) “Between”




Rising to another collision
of light and dark
like a rainbow.