A few blue clouds float
upon a light gray sky
above Barnaphy after
the surprise last gasp
of a cut-off low
cruising south to flood
California’s coast—
a warm forty hundredths here
brings a tinge of green.
Sycamores like torches afire,
not quite ready to undress
their long white limbs
intertwined, plump Rockettes,
our native chorus line
burns along the creek.
The cattle stay high,
all but a hopeful clutch
spurn the feed grounds.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, Fire, photography, poetry, rain, sycamores, weather, Winter Solstice
Snow up-canyon, dull green slopes on ashen
skies. With a few clear angels, tiny lights
dim and blink independently on the bare
Red Bud wrapped from last year’s Christmas,
before dawn. Leftovers after drought that
you can see from the road at night, singing
‘we’re still alive—’. Coming back to myself,
a black bull grumbles across the dry creek bed,
listening for the whereabouts of an answer.
First light prolonged at Winter Solstice that
I could not imagine waiting for us—I am
surprised with silence of this new beginning.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged Christmas lights, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, rain, Red Bud, water, weather, weekly-photo-challenge, Winter Solstice
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