Tag Archives: poetry

BEFORE GRASS

Posted on November 18, 2017 by John | 1 comment

The scent of dampened dust
settling with the first fine drops
envelops us in wind gusts,

all the loose atoms of death
over eons of friction bonding,
fusing into new shapes of life

as we inhale and taste it, sip
like musty red wine begging
release—lungs and capillaries

surge to rejuvenate the flesh
with the promises of fresh
beginnings, another chance

to chase seasons of grass
with a new crop of calves
who’ve never seen rain,

never smelled the green.
Swept up grinning, we raise
a glass into the endless gray.

1 Comment

Posted in Photographs, Poems 2017

Tagged petrichor, photography, poetry, rain, weather

UNEVENING

Posted on November 16, 2017 by John | Leave a comment

Heavens begin to churn
with the first disturbance
of a new beginning,

fresh celestial friction
of an unknown season,
a fiery harbinger stirring

flesh and feather, coveys
bobbing home to bed
in brush piles, cows

collecting calves for cover
from wind gusts
in the ever-changing light—

these old bones giddy,
head spinning
from ridge to ridge

consuming purple skies
before the storm,
before the welcome war.

DAYS BEFORE RAIN

Posted on November 13, 2017 by John | Leave a comment

We wait with weathered totems
in the garden, the always happy
ceramic caricatures, for rain.

We search for sign on ridgelines
drawn nearer, the sky for wisps
of manes and tails as cows beg

at the fenceline, a cacophonous
crescendo, a chorus of hoarse chords
intensifies the canyon’s imperative

between feed days as if we were gods
for a moment—healers, soothers, pleasers,
or just hired hands late for work.

PERPETUITY

Posted on November 11, 2017 by John | 1 comment

A few hang on, leather leaves on a single limb
reaching for rain, grasping sky for life
in this battlefield of arms and legs in piles
around upright trunks with loosened bark—
gray shields to relinquish at their feet.

A four-year war without water on uneven
slopes, ridges strewn with old timers down,
disheveled skeletons beginning to disintegrate,
assimilate deep into the space they leave
to time—a blank sheet, native stories gone.

What we understand of place is ‘nothing
stays the same’, no permanent circumstance
to protect and feed us except hard ground
cloaked by layers of law within the diaphanous
clouds of cyberspace it will endure forever more.

1 Comment

Posted in Photographs, Poems 2017

Tagged photography, poetry

BLACK PHOEBE

Posted on October 29, 2017 by John | 2 comments

Neither trust nor fear
of us inhibits a hawk’s
delight on the lawn.

The Sharp Shinned Hawk has been making a living around the house for over two months and become our coffee and cocktail entertainment. We do all but applaud its low flap and glide aerobatics in pursuit of startled quail. Though probably only a temporary guest, we’ve become comfortable with one another’s tastes and habits. Not too persnickety, the Sharp Shinned Hawk taunts us with ground squirrels (dead or alive) quail and ringnecked dove. Last night, a Black Phoebe was the casualty.

2 Comments

Posted in Haiku 2017, Photographs

Tagged haiku, photography, poetry, Sharp Shinned Hawk, wildlife

TRICK OR TREAT

Posted on October 28, 2017 by John | Leave a comment

Not quite cold enough for bright colors yet,
for frost and flies’ retreat, for the drift
of chimney smoke and horses’ breath

on the slow drawl of dawn. The grumbling
bulls begin to bellow, announce their prowess,
trumpet their intentions thirty days away

from being family men, their primal duties
rippling beneath their dusty hides. Not quite
old enough to forget, it’s almost Halloween.

NORM

Posted on October 25, 2017 by John | 1 comment

Not Norman Schaefer,
Washington poet
and high school roommate—

but the measure
of acceptable,
of the average

pebble worn
in the streambed
without a name,

ideals and dreams
tossed in the current
wash of friction.

To remember who I am,
I can go to the hard rock
of the high mountains

anytime I want
for clarity, to release
what’s become normal.

1 Comment

Posted in Poems 2017

Tagged poetry

THE INNOCENT

Posted on October 23, 2017 by John | 5 comments

Already drawn to the trough,
to the prospect of being cared for,
choosing peace and domesticity,

we are startled with the interruption
of the news—as it happens—
and we become the audience

on stage, interviewed and counted
for ‘something’ by invisible pollsters
just to keep the plot alive:

a chicken in every pot,
better jobs and lower taxes
as wealth wicks up

between catastrophes,
the graft and scandals
we’ve become addicted to.

5 Comments

Posted in Photographs, Poems 2017

Tagged Calves, photography, poetry

ALWAYS

Posted on October 15, 2017 by John | 3 comments

                              Perhaps it’s only those
                              who pay attention
                              that survive.
                                   – Linda M. Hasselstrom (“Coyote Song”)

“He looks, but just don’t see,”
Tom Homer’d tell of a part-time cowboy
when my father learned the mantra
of established cowmen after brandings,
when the work was done.
I heard it often.

Out here, one can lollygag himself
to death, early on—before he sees
the snake in the trail, before he sees
the coyote watching him.

Deaf to the gun but only once,
we improve the breed,
fine tune scent and sight
into long lives of good teachers—
always a coyote’s song.

for Linda