7I9A2645 7I9A2655 7I9A2663 7I9A2669 7I9A2674 7I9A2682 7I9A2691 7I9A2698 7I9A27067I9A2725 7I9A2728 7I9A2733I place my very soul

as if coin by coin

into the land

the wind

the fire of the sun descending.

The only way I can see to grow is to

throw my roots down deep into the loam

align my fate with the fate of the deer

elk

and sage hen.

I hope I leave my own trail of treasures

a tuft of fur on barbed wire

a lost flight feather gripped by the bitterbrush

the glow of my eyes in a pair of headlights.

I left pavement years ago

preferring the meandering hare trails

the prowling habits the coyotes press (step by step) into the river bank in the early evening light

the wide open arms of this hard territory.

My song turns orchestral, a blend of

bug wings humming

dying rabbit

meadowlark

shedding snake skin

sleet on spring creek

howl

and the rock off the point at echo canyon that giggles like a baby in the river current.

I feel the basalt bite at my boot soles

I squint against the light of the bunch grass glowing

we head further in

carried like seeds

on a wind of change.

Comments

  1. beautiful beautiful poetry and photos.

    Xx

  2. Yes.

  3. Thank you for the photos…Keep on keepin’on…

  4. Katelyn says:

    Beautiful. Absolutely.

  5. Chris Moore says:

    Sigh! I remember when I first started reading your blog Penny was new and such a little cutie. I was struck by her white muzzle and it makes me realize the span of your blog, and she’s still a cutie. Also, got the heart pendant, THANKS!

  6. Love your post. love the dogs. Those white muzzles…my my…time flies. Tator is in great form handsome as always.

    What do you do with all those great Sheds?

  7. Thanks for taking us with you and showing us how you see and feel the world. It’s a precious gift X

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