The Fence

How did she get here?
She walked...walked toward the fence.
It's the one constant.

There's always a fence.

She came alone. Swept along

with the refugees.

 




Maybe an orphan -
but no one knows for certain.
She stands by the fence.

Waiting. She watches.

Expecting someone to come

from across the fence.

Little refugees
grow up waiting by the fence...
older and angry.

They survived a lot.

So now they stand by the fence.

Waiting...

for something.

From Writer's Cramp @ Wordpress

This Broken Land

This is a broken land.

Cracks and crevices, some unseen, lead down

deep into the sand and ash

that make up our vision of Earth.

 

 

 

 

This is our rift valley -- like Africa's open wound

but ours is almost hidden from view.

Time and the desert are relentless.

But if you look -- and you see -- there are clues

 

.

Apache Tears lie in the sand like glass eyes.

Pompeii and Herculaneum were caught by surprise

but no one felt the same heat here...so long ago.

No one heard the roar or saw the rush of fire and ash.

 

The sleeping caldera is a playground now

but once it filled the sky with hell fire.

The heat still warms the hot springs where

we try to relax....newcomers playing with fire.

From Writer's Cramp @ Wordpress

So Now Comes the Wind

So now comes the wind --
Our winter's downhill neighbor
testing the hinges.

From beyond, somewhere
in a distant mountain place,
it comes to life.

It finds its power --
it scours the dead and dying --
it tries to take you.

But you bow your head.
You divert your swollen eyes.
It passes over.

A born acrobat,
Tumbleweed pulls up her skirts
and scatters her seeds.

It takes what it wants
leaving man and beast behind
tumbling into Spring.

From Writer's Cramp @ Wordpress

Ghost Birds

 

 

 

Cranes, lost to our sight

in the sun drenched sky above,

call out sad farewells.

 

 

 

 

They'll be back next fall

to do it all once again.

The bosque awaits.

 

Tattletale Chronicles - Winter and Late Fall

 

The wind driven rain

Sneaks under the door unseen.

The cat has wet paws

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

 

Cranes call from below -
A croaking frog-like song.
They fly off unseen.

 

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

 

Drama at dawn ends...

Hawk's talons clutch a quail.

Fat hare saw it all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

 

 

Coyote watches.

Sunless day with crunching snow

- Sleet pecks at her face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

 

 

Jackrabbit escapes-

Limping through the dry saltbush.

He had a close call.

 

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

From Writer's Cramp @ Wordpress

Autumn Wind

Howling, relentless
wind - roaring in from the north
penetrates my bones.

Where is it going?

It's in a hurry and wants

to take me along.

Dust flies in the air
obscuring the mountain views.
The world turns dull gray.

Like a steeplechase,

Tumbleweeds race each other

to some finish line.

Quail crouch in the sage.

We are thankful for shelter

on these windy days.

 

 

 

 

From: Writer's Cramp @ Wordpress