FRONTIER TOWN
Stumbling over the ruts left by their wagons
Around Appaloosa hills before sundown
melts into the valleys,
Dust swirls around my sandals
whispering each name.
Stumbling over the ruts left by their wagons
Around Appaloosa hills before sundown
melts into the valleys,
Dust swirls around my sandals
whispering each name.
Traveling without a compass, I think I see
an unhinged cavalry horseshoe
Jutting out from the new earth,
A headstone of blanket flowers rises
Bright colors a mixture of Native blankets and tears.
Scattered stars in a black Dakota sky
remain the silent witnesses.
6 comments:
How stunning those bright flowers look against the blue field of your blog! Beautiful flowers, beautiful words.
Phyllis
Wonderful poem - and flowers too.
Julie
Wonderful poem! And the photos are amazing!
Isn't it nice to walk around in history but still know where you are?
There's so much to catch up on here, we watched that special on Leonard also...having been a Cohen listener/lover forever,...we also watched another one...PBS Masters?
I can't remember now.
The photos are all so beautiful as is your writing, thank you so much for sharing your mind.
What pretty flowers!!! I finally figured out how to post a comment :-).
Have a fun time with your daughter :-)
Post a Comment