7/30/2008

Buckskin and Blue

Buckskin and Blue, do reign,
colours of visionary truths,
upon the landscape canvas,
her horsehair brushes do grapple,
with charges of distant lightening,
these visions in her head,
streaks across the night sky,
as solace as lariats ascends,
into distance places,
leaves the charged electronic impression,
rising into the heavens.

It is across the Sonora desert,
the Guadalupe does walk,
arm and arm with the with the Vaquero,
assuring that he will cross the river,
riding with the crew,
gathering the finest,
and from the herd,
there in the corral,
cuts out the finest horse,
and rides for the lament,
aside the droves of longhorn cattle,
with plains of sweet grass to cross,
and rivers to ford of purest water,
the journey ends with a eternal siesta,
at last assurance of the promises.

Loving Eyes


I have been given so much in my life,
the greatest, is this, which was a piece of clay,
for me to mold, and make,
and Dear Lord, I trust,
that these years have not been spent in vain,
that I have taken wisely and shaped,
this piece of clay with these Texas hands,
as best as I can.

The wind swept plains of this land,
has not given, but have taken,
this is the way at times, it seems,
and to receive is truly to be blessed,
with ones heart to give,
and to expect little until we rest,
to take, mold and make,
and that these 16 years,
my work is most pleasing,
Dear Lord,for I have done the best,
that I can with this,
which has been given to me.

Today my eyes see such beauty,
to this which I was entrusted,
to mold this piece of clay,
and with hopes,
that his path taken,
as he walks toward the sea
that he gives back,
for this is my prayer,
as I stand here under this tree,
and that he returns,
when my earthly time is done,
and throw a handful of dirt,
upon my tomb,
and this he did.

7/29/2008

A Crow/ A Raven

We do not know,
from where the winds may blow,
while there is solitude,
on this red road-
Some may have heard,
A peckin' on the door,
and look towards the window,
as others watch a scorpion,
Speed across the adobe's floor--

There upon the hiway,
these two do dance and strut,
with a fan of feathers,
to entertain, awe as much-
Hunters eyes search the seeds,
that the wind has blown,
from the grain fields,
Gathers of the gleam,
as now is not for waste,
as clear waters flow forth--

Hecker and Jeckel,
Of such comic lore,
gleam for grain,
along the ditches,
aside the roadway,
that winds this valley,
thru fields of grain, so golden-
Waste is not prudences chore,
as clear waters from an enbankment,
does flow and hence their thirst,
is filled another day,
While upon the roadside,
Hecker and Jeckel do sway--