Pink Echinopsis twice in May
after a peak of 110 degrees
like an afterthought—like a sign.
Thin dark clouds float upcanyon
like submarines at dawn,
gun-metal gray—oaks black
on blond hillsides like burnt spots
in the draws. Dark green sycamores
bring the creek flow to a stop.
Morning chill upon the breeze
brushes my bare chest, invigorates
the flesh one more time.
One-night bloom well-spent
at once—a dazzling display
of brilliance gone limp.
Some say joy,
shout happiness
for a moment—
long day
of dust and heat,
exhausted.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2018
Tagged Echinopsis, Flower Friday, photography, poetry
Day-old wonders,
what passing pollinator
could resist an invitation
for the momentary splendor
we leave in the dark
to haul confused
fat calves off the hill
in the heat building to
107 degrees—all
the action melted,
long stems limp and wilted
when we return.
Flash of tender bloom
for a single day each year
when we remember.
“Let the Mothers Decide to Make War”
Posted in Haiku 2018, Photographs, Poems 2018
Tagged Andy and Alissa Hedges, Andy Wilkinson, Echinopsis, Emily Wilkinson, haiku, photography, poetry
A short pause for this year’s one-day bloom that usually occurs around Mother’s Day, more flamboyant, it seems, this year, complete with leafhoppers that have overrun the garden. Once stirred, the bugs blindly assault every orifice, eyes, ears, nose and mouth. The hatch should run its course in two or three weeks, however the mosquitos will be with us all summer. Our weather has warmed to 100 degrees as we begin our workdays earlier, palpating heifers, moving cattle and weaning calves, as we try to find a pace that we can maintain for the next thirty or so days.
Flash of tender bloom
on thorny spines for one day
each year: from hard times.
Posted in Haiku 2016, Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Echinopsis, haiku, photography, poetry
Flower Friday
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