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Poetry

Bruno Gulch
(an etheree)
© Barbara Snow 2012

High
mountain
paradise,
you capture me.
Your morning mists rise
before the sun’s heat sears
the grass hungry horses tear,
ignoring creeks still fresh and clear.
Memories of yesterday’s drenching
hover like ghosts beneath today’s blue skies.

Echoes of thunder still rattle the air.
We vainly tie slickers to saddles.
Chipmunks scamper, birds flush, deer bound
as we ride across meadows
blooming yellow and red,
through sun-streaked evergreens
solemnly silent
except for
rustling
breeze.

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