DRY CRIK Journal

                    We at last struck a trail that has recently been
                    cut for the purpose of bringing in cattle. We
                    came to camp here by a little meadow…It is
                    at an altitude of 7,800 feet. Here is a succession
                    of grassy meadows – one called Big Meadow is
                    several miles in extent – and some men have cut
                    a trail in and have driven up a few hundred cattle
                    that were starving on the plains.
                          - William H. Brewer, 18 June 1864

I know the place
my grandfather’s grandfather found
to escape the drought, heard the voices

of his vaqueros when I got turned around
in the tight pines near Ellis Meadow – easy
to lose yourself and time altogether – feel

them close to the black rings of stone.
Up from Eshom where the Yokuts held
their last Ghost Dance that upset the settlers

in Visalia and over Redwood Saddle
to graze Rowell and Sugarloaf bunch grass.
After nearly a hundred summers,

the cows knew the way. Once
off the trail, it’s much the same:
pine needle carpets and granite cut

by snowmelt creeks and green stringer
meadows, wind and river talking loud-enough
to hear      damn-near anything.

                                 for Marcellino