Sunday Poem–Rain


It’s raining! It’s raining!

It has not rained in more than a month.

I run out the door,

spreading my arms skyward.

I laugh out loud, dancing in the rain.

A smile smears joyfully across my face.

I run across the patio,

rain drops pelleting my face, my arms.

I laugh out loud, dancing in the rain.

My dog stands, rivulets of rain running off her.

Lightning explodes, thunder booms bass,

the steel roof plays staccato music.

I laugh out loud, dancing in the rain.

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From my book “On the Rim of Wonder”.  This poem holds true today.  After a summer with lots of rain, it quit.  It is very dry with a high danger of wildfires now that the summer vegetation has dried, perfect fuel.

 

Dear Monarch Butterfly


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Saturday I discovered your chrysalis underneath the top of a disintegrating cable spool by the red and green barn.  At first I remained uncertain about you.  Were you really a monarch?

Then I thought, “This is too late; you won’t survive,”

I checked the weather. There is hope.  No freeze until late Thursday night.

By Monday evening your chrysalis had turned a dark green transparency; I could see hints of your wings inside.

When I looked Tuesday after horse feeding, you were out, unmoving, wings folded, your chrysalis a hollow shell.

I checked you twice last evening.  Still by your chrysalis, opening and closing your wings.

Becoming really worried, knowing a cold front was coming, I puzzled what to do, keep you inside the barn, leave barn doors open, what?

This morning you had moved to the edge of the spool top.  Today’s wind and warmth might inspire you to take your journey south; I could only hope, placed you where you could fly away easily.

When I fed the horses at five today, you were gone.

Relieved, I wish you a safe journey to Michoacan.

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Among the Flowers


After feeding the horses, completing chores, a late afternoon walk to look for the last of the wild flowers took my fancy.  Here in the canyon country of the Panhandle of Texas, the majority of wildflowers are three colors:  yellow, white, purple.

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Butterflies feeding in the gay feather.

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At first I thought this might be bitterweed but now, not sure.

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Although this one and the last one may resemble each other, they are different.

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Looked up, the sun decided to shine–at my place four inches of rain in the last week and more than seven inches ahead of normal.

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Black foot daisies and prairie zinnias bloom from early spring almost until frost.

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Athena among the flowers.

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Prickly pear can grow almost anywhere.

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I almost missed this one hidden among the grass.

ACoE Invades South Texas


No regard for precious wildlife, no regard for property rights, no regard for anything.

Jude Lieber

Photo caption: Snapshot from one of my trips to the Rio Grande — Big Bend National Park hot springs with with wild mustangs on the Mexican bank.

We knew this was coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Trespassing on private soil, our own Army Corps of Engineers (ACoE) have begun clearing areas for the border wall. Rather than steal land legally through eminent domain, they have arrived without permission or notification. Instead of cutting through ranchland, they have begun where it will hurt the most — nature preserves. The first location to fall beneath the saw, machete, and blade is a strip through the National Butterfly Center. Scientists had purchased the area from farmers and restored it with plant species vital to the survival of the threatened monarch butterfly. Now, only brown stubble remains. The wall will block the migration of thousands of land-based animals, cutting their territory…

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Silence


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Eerie.  Silence.  Fixed dinner, took it out on the patio, sat down.  Realized I could hear myself chewing–pasta, not celery or carrots, pasta.  What?!

Stopped eating.  Listened. No insects chirping, no birds calling, no wind blowing.

Nothing.

Eerie.  Quiet, cloud covered sky.  No lightning, no thunder.

Nothing.

I looked for a tornado cloud, an explanation.  None.  This never occurs here.

The sound of no sound.