Tag Archives: photography

It is not care
nor compassion for the earth
that has nurtured generations
of all things
that drives the train
of speculation and suspicion.

High up in June,
the ground we gather
is still green and damp in places
crawling with baby bullfrogs,
bogs in the draws where streams
begin at the end of fingers
to join a canyon with a name
on some maps.

Microcosmic creation place
to feed a world where life
blooms before trickling down,
we harvest calves—big bulls
and thick-waisted heifers
because of rain—slick
ultra-naturals without a brand
or vaccination for the world
below.

There is no immunization
for the news that sells
and sells and sells…
it is not care
nor compassion for the earth
or for humanity
that drives the train.

A young Red Tail waits,

                    his nest mate on another
                    set of braces, mother
                    in a sycamore,

for a fresh batch
of baby ground squirrels—
eyes just open now,
but naïve to being
at the bottom
of the food chain.

Eggs and feathers
come early for hawks,
learning to hunt soon after
young rodents are born
full of innocence.

He has never seen a man before
and eyes me curiously, carefully
and will stay the summer
securing the ground around
the corrals dining on squirrels.

Grasses dry, the empty heads
of wild oats bow to a breeze,
rip gut and foxtails cling

for traveling—the hills are blond
come June. With coming summer
sun, tender lilies bloom

well-after Easter
reaching for a short life
and the 100-degree sky.

Growing into horseback dreams
takes time and dedication for little girls,
pushing cattle where the feed can be

heavenly on the good years—a home
for heifers and their first calf—
we’ve watched her grow to be good help,

to hold her own over years
of pillowed nights imagining—all
come true right before our eyes.

                                                 for Allie