Granite outcrops clean,
lichen islands
ignite in flames,
November’s sunset
after a good long rain—
gray back to green,
both slopes and flats—
creek stalled
a mile upcanyon,
black dots
of cows and calves
grazing ridgetops.
Glistening tree bough
drops diamonds glistening,
raining rain.
There is more to heaven,
I suppose, a giving-up
of tarnished flesh
and character,
collected wisdom
won the hard way
for eternity—
this canyon green
I’d rather stay.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2025, Ranch Journal
How many jillion rains have washed away
the rodent digs from these exposed intrusions,
lichen-stained, fractured magma rockpiles
changing shape in the sun’s daylight and shadow
to appear to be alive for eons, like a trout
breaching a clay wave, free to see the sky?
Some have seen so much that they have souls.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023
Tagged anthropomorphism, Lichen, magma, photography, poetry, rain, rockpiles, rocks, soul, water, Windmill Spring
Phacelia (Scorpionweed) and Lichen – May 15, 2011
Competing everywhere you look
grace and color
growing together.
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs
Tagged Greasy Creek, haiku, Lichen, Phacelia, photographs, poetry, Scorpionweed, wildflowers
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