redheads crowding street
rental car moves slowly by -
long-legged sandhill cranes
Categories:
sandhill, america, bird, travel,
Form: Haiku
A descension of value bows night scenes,
the purple canopy edges its hoist,
spirits cool Platte River to lose its sheen,
Nebraskans wake to clarion fields voiced.
A loyal guest calls, it's the Sandhill Cranes,
dancing lessons, fields fattening corn orts,
pecking and choosing established campaigns.
Last state, go afoul, -- a date with the courts.
Locals aid their tally, most from afar,
It is nature's clock, all good things must end,
fly north to breed, and brood, and up to par,
A month's here, till next year, that's how the trend.
Awnings grey, triumphant stirs, the tension,
inspiring, crescendo ... the ascension.
Categories:
sandhill, allusion, analogy, animal, appreciation,
Form: Crown of Sonnets
Where the sandhill cranes gather,
I stand and watch the swans preen
In the morning sun near the bridge
Alone, except for a circling vulture
All denizens of the lowland culture,
Passing high over the flanking ridge
A red-tail hawk hereabout rarely seen
Above the warm, crystal blue water.
written February 19, 2022
(Using the reverse rhyme scheme
which I have discovered in so many
of my poems: abcddcba)
Categories:
sandhill, bird, nature,
Form: Rhyme
September’s end descended swiftly
on the island of Manitou, as dark clouds
and strong winds vanquished yesterday’s
sun, bringing gray skies and cold rain.
In the fields, sandhill cranes gather,
then lift, en masse, silhouetted against
a sombre sky, their raucous cries harkening
to prehistoric times as they disappear across
the horizon following the east wind which
will carry them to Michigan and beyond.
We lower our heads and pedal on.
Categories:
sandhill, nature, september,
Form: Free verse
In wet dusk air we
Watched as you stalked across
Traffic to the pond
Categories:
sandhill, animal, nature, seasons, sunset,
Form: Haiku
It was a long hike before they reached the campsite,
and sunlight was fading with the slight threat of rain.
Mandy was weary and Jeff's mood was quite dreary.
There was much yet to prepare before dark of night.
Tents needed raising, then fire and food to prepare.
Labors completed by the bright glow of moonlight.
Mandy gathered dry kindling while Jeff found water,
near a stand of cattails where dragonflies alight.
Gazing at the laggard walk of a red capped crane,
Jeff's mood was quite dreary, and Mandy was weary,
'til scared by trumpets of the sandhill crane in flight.
April 6, 2021
Abracadabra March Magic Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula
Syllable count at 12 ~ checked with HMS. Rhyme with RZ
Categories:
sandhill, nature,
Form: Rhyme
freeze you bitter sky
skittish three trumpeting call-
dark legs trail behind
11/21/2018
Categories:
sandhill, bird, flying, food,
Form: Haiku
Here is a time of anticipation,
hammocks poised for the days afternoon rain.
Glaring diamond sun, horizon ink black,
breezes stir hot thick air, thunder clouds call.
Sandhill Cranes graze in a lazy black stream,
glittering gold minnows lost as sun dims.
Mates for life in Florida's vast hammocks
now retreat to tall palmettos safety.
The bald eagle glides low to her storm perch
this nest of young chicks to shelter from storm.
Darkness builds as rumbles roll from the sea,
roiling black clouds swiftly move on sea's breeze.
Fury rushes through tall saw grass with speed,
at the will of driven rain, sand pines groan.
Palms defiant in the gusting wind stand,
Spanish moss on oaks like ghostly limbs wave.
Lightning flashes in most deafening roar,
hammock now obscure in a gray curtain.
Islands of shell in black water rising,
world embraced in a replenishing wrath.
The wind driven storm moves quickly inland,
rain lightens, winds calm, clouds open and pass.
The sun, glaring bright, air hot and humid,
water drips from still trees framed in rainbows.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr ©
8/16/16
Categories:
sandhill, nature, poetry,
Form: Verse
Pink and grey walls rise like castle parapets
Reflecting the sunrise in golden hues
I ride along the canyon to the sound of leather
Creaking softly in the tranquil mountain air
Sweat and horse, with layers of dust
Well worn jeans against a speckled hide
Gently swaying in a unified rhythm
Languidly haze swirling about our feet
Around the bend we startle snow geese
Flocks floating, rising, settling serenely
Angling, landings against the lapping waters
Black tipped wings against wintry white
Sandhill cranes foraging for cutthroat trout
Reflecting blue beside the meandering creek
Majestically standing, patiently waiting
Blue dragon flies dancing within their reach
Off the beaten path we wander
Past yucca swaying in the breeze
O’er grama blue as sky beneath us
Cushioned carpet of pine and peat
Rock squirrels scurry across a Douglas fir
Scolding woodpeckers on a burnt oak tree
The chorus is merged by the hoot of an owl
And the clip clop against rocks as we proceed
Canopies of piñon line the trail
Mixtures of conifer shade the landscape
Grey blue greens with clusters of sienna
Cathedral spiritual within an ageless solitude
Categories:
sandhill, natureblue, blue,
Form: Idyll (Idyl)
I have a name for my husband. One that can be repeated. I call him cowboy. But
he tells me I am wrong. He never redeoed, nor a Saturday night cowboy was he.
And he was way to young for the cattle drives of history. Born on his father’s
homestead in Nebraska sandhill land. He started working full time on a ranch as
a lad of fourteen. All of the work they did back then was done with horses and
teams. True cars were around in ‘45, but tractors were hard to be found. So for 8
years he proudly worked on the famous 101 Nebraska ranch. In l9 hundred and
57 I started teaching up there. When my teaching job was done the cowboy and
the teacher became as one. I moved up the beautiful valley to the ranch where he
did work and don’t laugh I then became the cook. And while we worked we kept
our eyes and ears open for a ranch of our own. At last we were blessed with the
ranch of our dreams on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota Land.
Categories:
sandhill, cowboy-western, funny, life, work,
Form: Cowboy Poetry