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.