Call to mind
Riding Old Dun south in Wyoming flower-time,
Red and yellow hawkweeds grace meadows,
Delicate purple daisies in high forest clearings,
And eyeful joys midst silvery sage and grasses.
Through this rainbow Old Dun and I meander
While rock doves feed and flycatchers flit about,
Shy black crows gaze from nearby branch or rock,
Overhead hawks soar as grouse puff and thump.
Old Dun dances nervously around a prairie dog town,
Outruns a black bear, mountain goats bump heads,
Startle busy chipmunks and chubby marmots,
And passing parades of antelopes in everyday finery.
Old Dun fills his belly on Little Bluestem and Grama.
I toss my plunder inside a rock-overhang cowboy hotel,
Inside I scrap up a quart-sized fire for coffee and jerky.
In starry outer parlor yelping prairie lawyers plead a case.
Five
Poem: Wrote this poem after watching an unusual number of cars and pick-ups pulling boats and campers going west away from towns and cities in front of my house one warm clear sky spring Saturday morning.
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