Poetry
Song of the Canyon Wren
Guale Mesa, Big Bend Ranch State Park
The canyon wren sang from the far wall.
The notes dripped, liquid silver, down the cliff
To the shadowed depths below.
From the deep dark came the final coda – bzzzt!
Jestful end to the sweet, pure song
That made me smile.
I stood on the crumbling rock pillars, high above the mesa,
And listened as the sunset softened the desert,
And brought the cool of night.
The wren flew to a perch near me, and repeated his song.
It spoke of place – of connectedness, of ownership.
And made me laugh again, at the end.
He flew on, down to the mesa floor, a rocky outcrop,
Marking a triangle of claim with his first canyon perch,
And sang again.
And made me laugh once more.
The last shreds of daylight wore away. He flew home,
Back to the deep, dark canyon,
And sang, one last time, from the shadows.
And I smiled goodnight.
~~
Steps crunch on the loose gravel behind.
In memory of friend and gentle man, Bobby Donaldson
When my time comes
I hope to die gently
I do not want to be
scared to death I do
not want to be cared
to death
I do not want to die
in a hopeless hospice
nor be a burden to
another
A passing touch
A smile A quiet
surround Pleasant
odor from the
kitchen
Book with big print
No televison No news
Quiet journey to the
end
Ashes in a beautiful
urn Waiting for you.
K.B. Whitley
The twilight spell is ended.
I turn to the light of the campfire, the companionship of friends.
And hope, some day, to hear the canyon wren sing again.
~~~~
Buffalo Grass
It threatens to trip me,
growing in massive clumps,
that curve over like wave crests.
I walk through the grass at dusk,
night falling as only winter can.
Fog rises as they freeze,
the golden strands turning white
like Victorian lace,
I know I am close,
to God, Nature, Man.
Feeling me it tugs me to fall.
Lasting in my dreams,
the grasses speak of peace,
and as I drift to sleep,
the image remains till Dawn.
Wade Thompson
Jean Nance
26
Hovering
Cenizo
Third Quarter 2012