Monday, November 14, 2016

Big Noise

he rides behind
the horse's pricked ears
shake of the mane wake
of a lovely day

it seems every leaf in every tree moves impulsively
in the same striking striding breeze
it seems as much as he can ever be
in this light faith of hurried air
love of dying
colors

an unlikely place
with its nesting snakes
of rusted rope
deep treeless holes
rows of crossed steel ready
for the invasion that never was
it takes whatever it takes
to bring him to this

takes his body as hollow as the great trunk
of the massive cottonwood
emptied of its core and burl
the rings of its years gone
years passing faster than the desert light
now there is no record of rain
or drought
tears
or loss

when the sun and moon appear
to be equals
when they face off
in the utter blue
when the geese on the rio grande see
the first pair of sandhill crane call
on their ancestral land
when the land shrinks away
in the quick blinks of sun
bursting in reaching branches
loses its reflections
in the puddled mud
drained ditches

a young boy covered in mud
nets his treasured crawdads
crawls up the slick and crumbling bank

waves his snapping claws
wide smile
at the
bosque
sky

jppestana november 14, 2016

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