Tag Archives: haiku

SHELTERED IN PLACE

 

 

                        Highwater debris,

                        enough to measure peak flow

                        gauging stations miss.

 

We’ve begun naming creeks

that flood the dry draws,

pull nominees from our histories

while exchanging guffaws.

 

We have become the helpless

prisoners of the weather,

of flatland floods and saturated mud,

resisting cabin fever.

 

Roads and fences, trees to cut,

our work comes to a halt—

no need to fuss, cows don’t need us

with water, grass and salt.

 

 

MOTHER NATURE 101

 

 

1.

 

Thrum upon the roof,

the creek stretches loudly now,

rain streams day and night

 

from heaven’s dark skies—

a decade of dreams and prayers

descend upon us.

 

 

2.

 

Our totems come and go to rest

before our eyes, eagles and herons

inspect our souls without asking,

 

families of quail titter at our feet,

antlers tilt to consider our hunger

in places we mark in our memories.

 

 

3.

 

She doesn’t care, has no compassion

for our self-indulgence, shapes her track

of least resistance embracing landscapes,

 

rearranging the gravity of facts

we must endure when she leaves us

with fresh metaphors into the future.

 

 

SULPHUR PEAK 3,448′

 

Your robe’s frozen sleeve

reaches the creek once again,

my unending friend,

 

you carry both storm

and heaven on your shoulders

when I reflect up—

 

face unwavering

beneath sun and starlit night

always in the morning.

 

______________________________________

 

It’s been interesting weather, now half-way through our rainy season, over 18 inches of rain after a decade of drought.  Already whispers from the loudest drought complainers for relief as these hills leak crystal rivulets again. 

 

We lost a month in time in January to the Atmospheric River during branding season, and now with nearly 3 inches in the past 3 days and 3 inches more forecast for the next three, it will be at least a week before we can get to our upper country to brand the last bunch, putting us close to the middle of March.  These calves will be big, a handful.

 

The Paregien Ranch ranges from 2,000 to 2,600 with its own light blanket of snow now, time-released moisture soaking into the clay and granite ground that leaks down the smooth rock waterfalls of Ridenhour Canyon, adding to Dry Creek that peaked at 684 cfs last night, that probably washed out some of our watergaps replaced after January’s peak flow over 3,500 cfs.

Job security, but patience until we can get there—you can’t fight Mother Nature, just try to adapt and face the consequences—fully enjoy her luxuriant and persistent presence after so much needed moisture.

 

Dry Creek, January 9, 2023

3,500+ cfs @ 5:00 p.m.

 

Atmospheric creek,

miles of canyons into one,

now headed somewhere.

 

 

 

THANKSGIVING

 

A pause like prayer,

a nod to the gods holding

the wild together.

 

 

 

 

COTYLEDONS DAY THREE

 

Three-day one-inch-rain,

warm wet dirt germinating

green hair on steep slopes.

 

 

(Click to enlarge)

 

 

DEJA VU HAIKU

 

1.

Gray dust clouds rising

behind cows down powdered trails

off these bare mountains.

 

2.

The diesel feed truck

awakes a bawling chorus

to claim the canyon.

 

3.

All imperative

and hungry, it twists our guts—

La Niña pending.

 

 

GRAZING GRANITE

Up here, the deer unafraid.

We freeze together

to see who melts away first.

 

 

TIGHT SQUEEZE

A beautiful death

to compress a rodent’s life

into a banquet.

TALISMAN

 

 

From out of the smoke
raining with ash, white egret
at standing water.