Though summer has been fairly tame here so far, it’s begun to warm up with 108 high on Saturday with cloudy skies and some errant raindrops. The Super El Nino forecasts have been pretty much the same for the past 30 days with few new details, just an elevated level of fear it seems. Like politics, we are hostage to the weather, preparing where we can.
Red wave at dawn,
upcanyon forecast north
before the storms,
the rapid fire
atmospheric rivers,
before El Niño
or whatever clever
weathermen
tag as fresh nomenclature,
acronyms, fodder
for the inner ear to file
and the mind to find.
Red wave at dawn,
upcanyon forecast north
before the storms.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry
Tagged Atmospheric River, El Nino, photography, poetry, rain, weather
No point waiting for a rain to start the green
until October, and even then it’s blasphemy
to pray or say the word out loud to anyone—
especially with El Niño mapped and gathering
off shore, lapping Jeffer’s granite with warm waves
of poetry—just load and feed the hay like always.
No point worrying about the news a thousand miles away
or all the hobgoblins waiting in ambush down the road
littered with deceptions and diversions, lust and greed
to greet you—just load and feed the hay like always.
Posted in POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, El Nino, feed hay, news, photography, poetry, politics, rain, weather
drycrikjournal 