Today’s post is a small collection of brief poems, none the worse (I hope) for being short.
This untitled piece describes the effect of the clouds one recent night; the sky has been varied and beautiful.
The moon swims upward
Through ripples of dark cloud
That paint trout freckles
Across its golden shimmer.
I am endlessly fascinated by the very vocal coveys of Gambel’s quail.
A quail family
march through with their toy trumpets,
waking the morning
Sketch in Blue and White
In the blue of winter morning,
The breeze is brash and loud;
But the white sun is silent–
The great sun, it is proud;
And underneath its silence
In a sky of blue unbowed
Is a small puff of half-moon
Above a puff of cloud.
This last poem was an attempt to express the unexpected and sometimes seemingly contrary nature of things in the desert.
The running of quail
And the flitting of rabbits,
The green of new leaves in the fall;
A desert tale,
A winter tale,
With a southern sun over it all.
I got such a smile from watching those quail with their toy trumpets.
Sketch in blue and white...♥️