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Category Archives: Poetry

Merry March

 

Still Christmas in March—
Sparkling trees cast colored cheer,
Cords buried in snow!

 
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Posted by on March 8, 2020 in Poetry

 

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Winter Wildlife

moose on the highway near Battle Mountain

 

 

Winter-time wildlife,
seeking shelter from the storm—
Will spring ever come?

moose at a crossroad

Antelope on the high desert steppe

antelope near Slater

 
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Posted by on February 15, 2020 in Animals, Nature and Wildlife, Poetry

 

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Saint Francis of Ladder Ranch

Saint Francis of Ladder Ranch

 

Poor St. Francis,
he never knew such outrage in Italy:
Patron Saint of the Ladder Ranch,
animals, and the natural world.

His statue stands guard in our yard,
watching over birds, even the grouse,
the eagles, the robins, and it seems,
ravens, crows and magpies.

He looks out for cattle, sheep,
horses, dogs, and those wild critters.
our children.
He sees deer, elk, antelope.

St. Francis, please care for
the bats, the bees, and butterflies—
maybe not mosquitoes!
No patron saint for them.

So here stands his likeness,
concrete birds upon his fist.
In summer, actual bird poop
paints stigmata hands and feet.

But now, in the depths of winter,
in cold winds and drift
poor Francis stoically endures,
waist-deep in snow-white robes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on February 7, 2020 in Animals, Nature and Wildlife, Poetry

 

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Nevermore

 

A murder of crows

seek treats from scrappy garbage

thinking corvid thoughts

 
 

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All inclusive Wyoming resort

Where’s the corn?

 

Cows in Laradise,

far from mountain drifts and draws—

inclusive resort!

January heifers in NB

 
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Posted by on January 12, 2020 in Animals, Cattle, Poetry

 

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Winter Romance

Bucks in the chute

 

 

December romance
Sweet nothings from powdered rams,
lead to lambs in May.

 

 

Cora bringing them up

off to find the ladies

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on December 27, 2019 in Animals, Dogs, Poetry, Sheep

 

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Triangulation

Ewes at Laclede

 

Ewes and rams still standing in a triangle,
Too much snow to go out to graze.
Cake this morning, but not moving
out to that brushy hill not so far away.
Tomorrow—cake, then hay,
then out to that hillside with dry grass,
low brush. Food and shelter.
Time to move from the triangle,
spread like stars seeking space.
 
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Posted by on December 26, 2019 in Animals, Nature and Wildlife, Poetry, Sheep

 

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