
Early spring garnish
before a mid-March rain,
wild colors claiming
lush shades of green
that cattle finish grazing
by eight o’clock.
Everybody feels
what’s coming,
despite the sunshine—
despite the rattling
of sabers
from would-be kings.

Early spring garnish
before a mid-March rain,
wild colors claiming
lush shades of green
that cattle finish grazing
by eight o’clock.
Everybody feels
what’s coming,
despite the sunshine—
despite the rattling
of sabers
from would-be kings.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2025, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged rain, storms, wildflowers, would-be kings




