Poetry
“Not Yet” Hwy 67 South
“Not Yet.”
I breathed out
as I panted and pedaled my way up
the rise in the “all-weather” gravel road,
that connects me with my fellow humans
living in the desert. If you just
went to walkin’
out there It’s
no telling what
you’d come up
on It’s to hell
and gone from
here to there
Plum up to
them big hills
Nothing but
some scrub
and a yucca
ever now and
then A trail of
dust following
an old Ranch
truck Must be
some cows out
there And must
be a draw ’bout
half way You
can see a string
a green across
there Must be
cottonwoods
A single row
of telephone
poles running
straight in Far
as you can see
Might be some
one living back
in there Why
else would they
be Them poles.
The Turkey Vulture’s gaze moved on to the next earthly bound creature,
as it continued
its heavenly patrol of the living and the dead.
“Later you can have me.
Then, I want to soar with you.”
I want to spend my nights where the earth reaches for the sky;
and spend my days in the heavens
Riding the winds
be they still or strong.
Exquisite master of the thermal
Daily rising from the heated earth below.
Magnificent wings,
Spread to expert advantage
of the Laws of Lift.
Soaring up beyond my view
or running your course so close to the ground
that looking up
I meet your gaze looking down.
Breathe in
Breathe out
Breathe in.
Cynthia McKaughan
K.B. Whitley
22
Cenizo
Third Quarter 2011