SOLSTICE 2005
Day�s cattle work done, we sip December
beer to recount the numbers onto paper
lest we forget to search acres of future
for one or two that were never there.
My eyes comb gray, old feed over green,
half-way up the ridge across the canyon
where the three of us scattered your father �
forked his urn in a good Blue Oak.
Hiroshima, Miramar, Kwadjalein � a sailor�s
wake of mushroom clouds and radiation
across the Pacific to where my eyes stray
to rest � find reason where there was none.
Next year�s new mothers put out today
will gravitate and graze this spot soon �
dot dawns and evenings until they calve
and calve again, until we too are gone.