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Grains Of Time

A gold mine under a closed saloon,

empty bottle on the bar

 

While we wait and while we hope,

old memories travel far

 

Its sidewalks float with the summer rain,

nuggets rising through the sand

 

What was once will be again

—each grain of time at hand

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)

Hope Never Rests

While looking for a bridge

to cross over tonight

 

Connecting time honored values

to internet blight

 

I thought and I pondered,

as I surfed on the net

 

But the things that it offered

were sadly abject

 

Where is the laughter,

the thrill of the chase

 

Through forest and meadow,

with all of your mates

 

Gone is the connection,

looking eye into eye

 

Replaced with an I-pad,

and virtual lies

 

The children are programmed,

their bits and their bytes

 

With screens the new playgrounds,

their couches—their life

 

Where all of this leads,

I’m fearful to know

 

As I look for that bridge,

where our youth can still go

 

To return from the chaos,

to a welcoming time

 

Where friendships were made,

in a tree you just climbed

 

But the harder I search,

the dimmer it gets

 

Quicksand reinvented,

their minds it besets

 

Though cards stack against me,

I remain on my quest

 

The young are still worth it

—and hope never rests

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)

Eight Miles Left

With ten more miles of wire,

my horse wants to turn back

 

There’s dark clouds over the mountain,

just a small tent in my sack

 

The fence line sits all busted,

from two bulls that went astray

 

They both missed being neutered,

last year on roundup day

 

My hands are cold and blistered,

that salve jar all but gone

 

Two wolves begin to howling,

that lonesome prairie song

 

The storm clouds all have thickened,

light pulls its covers back

 

Just one more night on the western slope

—with eight miles left to track

 

 

‘From The ‘Searching For Crazy Horse Collection’

‘Read In Elko Nevada Years Ago’