Five Western Bluebirds
at the local water hole
after the fog lifts.
Blueberry moonrise
never in the same place twice—
acorns ripe in oak trees.
© Terri Blanke
Not an easy climb
to rise above the bluster
of the self=righteous.
Held in high regard,
we let the dead lean until
we lay down to rest.
No need to worry
about fancy horsemanship—
the girls know the way.
Posted in Haiku 2019, Photographs, Poems 2019
Tagged Allie Fry, cows, haiku, photography, poetry
(click to enlarge)
Privilege and luck
to know and work with fine men
while getting older.
A part of them sticks
to the sides of gaping holes
they have left us with
to load semi-trucks
with ripened grass on the hoof—
cowmen to count on.
Returning home yesterday after a moving celebration of the life of Earl McKee, Robbin went through some her photos trying to determine the age of our old dog, only to run across her photo of Tom Grimmius and Art Tarbell on Dry Creek, two more from the old school that are no longer with us to help get the job done. Reminding me of H.C. “Bud” Jackson’s “The Good ‘Uns” about Cleo Denny and other local and progressive cattlemen, published in 1980.
Posted in Haiku 2019, Photographs, Poems 2019, Ranch Journal
Tagged Art Tarbell, haiku, photography, poetry, Tom Grimmius
Crowded outer space,
red sputniks and satellites
between us and God.
One-night bloom well-spent
at once—a dazzling display
of brilliance gone limp.
A short leap before
we look back, freeze and believe
we are invisible.
Last two hundred years,
six days afire—forgotten
ash and sediment.
(click)
