Poetry: the land speaks and a cowboy listens

John Dofflemyer, another “stream” from the Kaweah Land and Arts Festival, steward, rancher, poet living on Dry Creek in the Kaweah River Watershed:

This poem was posted September 21, 2009 on his Dry Crik Journal

I grope in the shadows, run my hand
along the familiar and feel the soft
moss on forgotten piles of granite.

Surely a thread of grace appears
here in the half-light, illuminated
between the stone-cold dead

and the musty smell of living –
surely there is some solace
missed by the genius of science

in these scattered, fractured ruins
where I may rest my head and relax.
Off in the valley, bright head and

red tail lights stream urgently
to the churning wind above me,
the wings of ravens returning

from the fields, a squadron strung
high for miles to the oak trees
beyond the ridgelines we never see.

Do you want some Dry Crik poetry books on your personal library shelf?
Find them here.

Elsah Cort 🌀 Artist