Tag Archives: photographs

WPC – Morning Monument (2)

December 8, 2009

December 8, 2009

 

 

Dependable, Sulphur Peak
faces each day
dressing for the season.

 

 

WPC – Forgotten Monument (1)

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Caged from cattle,
who were her people
pioneering in the foothills?

 

 

White Mariposa Tulip

Calochortus venustus - April 10, 2014

Calochortus venustus – April 10, 2014

 

Calochortus venustus - April 10, 2014

Calochortus venustus – April 10, 2014

 

 

Kaweah Brodiaea 2014

Brodiaea Insignis - April 11, 2014

Brodiaea Insignis – April 11, 2014

With drought conditions, the rare and endangered Kaweah Brodiaea bloom is early and rather difficult to find this year. Go HERE for the history of the Kaweah Brodiaea on this ranch or follow the tags below.

APRIL 2014

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In dry times, the gods retreat
to the granite, forsake the clay
and its inhabitants to fashion

spring upon the open slopes
with skiffs of blooming dots
à la Monet—above the dust

rising between green fading
and leaves curling red, it’s not
quite heaven, but enough.

 

 

Claude Monet - 1840-1926 courtesy Wikipedia

Claude Monet – 1840-1926
courtesy Wikipedia

BORN IN A DROUGHT

Pogue Canyon - March 25, 2014

Pogue Canyon – March 25, 2014

 

Islands of bare, red clay
on shallow green receding—
seeds that never swelled

to root ceramic slopes
or went with clouds
from cloven hooves—

stare back sternly.
She is dry,
nothing left to offer

the eye—only
the lone calf
grazing shores

for the overlooked
knows no better
world than this.

LIVING ON ROCK—2 HAIKU

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With rain, even lichen
and moss vie for space—
breathe life into a rock.

 

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Hide of a Herford calf
at a distance—red
lichen living on rock.

 

 

WPC – Threshold (2)

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From the embrace of shade,
shelter from the elements,
we watch the world.

 

 

WPC – Threshold (1)

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Dark portal reserved for spring
without an address
or need for a door.

 

 

DUST

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                                        “We may be living on an atom
                                        in somebody’s wallpaper.”

                                                    – Wendell Berry (“Dust”)

1.
Between worlds, the sun leaked through
the shingles of Granddad’s dark shed
where the pixie dust would dance, sparkle

within light beams, as my sister and I
urged invisible steeds to town adventures—
fly aboard the manure spreader stored

for the future, the iron wheels and idle
wagon tongue would wait to take us
to wild dimensions for young dreams.

2.
The friction wears us smooth and fine,
cobbles, sand and dust. In the dry years
midden rises under hoof on a gust,

generations lifted to cloud the light
that smell like deer hides and taste
like acorns—tiny planets inhaled

behind cattle drawn to gather here
to wait and see how serious we are
about leaving what feels like peace.

3.
Through a stained glass window high
above the hand-hewn beams in the adobe
Chapel atop the prep school’s hill,

the call of selflessness floated on motes
that framed the sermon, moving me
from the wooden pews filled with two

hundred other vacant blue blazers
into another world for a week or so, yet
clings still to particles that float in space.

 

 

‘Dust’