In the Thick
In the Thick
And so,
submerged
By the shadows spun from its trunk
like its leaves the threads of a dripping silk bandana
in a water trough, dunked
cutting back the heat and exhaust
Like iron. Quieting by charm
The blaring noise of the sun
`for just a moment.
An there,
Still, shadows upon the backing slopes
Of baking stone and grass
A-lurking beneath them all
waiting and collecting as droplets
Where each time he beds down
Rises and floods the draw.
Shadows running through the cracks of mud
Shade out of reach as the rainbows end.
And huddled beneath the words
Of my own heart.
But while,
On the ground, fading in and out
Do these words seem to rise out
Pointed and formidable
Chosen to be found
Like a rusty old rowl
Clipped when smashed against
the shade makers bough
A century before now.
And here,
In this thicket of weeds
Beneath this tired old mesquite
This late afternoon
Whereupon any other
I might uncover a different sentence structure
After I ride up and tie up
pull the latigos loose
To shade up beneath it
As an old wore-out cow might do
Acting as though these ideas are as original and new
As writing
:Sometimes this life is too good to be true.
Copyright © Trey Pearson | Year Posted 2016
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