Yellow grass sawing in wind.
Old boy stories told at a table.
Port served in glasses that seem too small for this place.
Fires that seem stacked too high.
It is so quiet at night.
There are so many stars, even there, at the horizon.
There are the horizon, the pink line of sunset.
Others say they are looking forward but I, I am looking around.
What quill is this? What stalk?
What horn? What white-tufted tail.
Poem written in Guest Book at Writer’s Retreat, Double Helix Ranch
January 21st through 26th, 2017
[The above photo is from the Double Helix Ranch, which is just west of Pontotoc, Texas]