Look down at the tan dry arid ground,
look skyward clear blue sky,
big bright yellow sun beaming down,
look back at the ground,
clump of Buffalo grass here and there.
Look up and slowly turn around,
purveying my surroundings
as far as I can see.
Happy Jack 35 or 40 miles away,
Colorado mountains 70 or so miles.
Shake my head as the wind turbines
to the south and west are lazily turning,
glint of a semi on I-80, 15 miles away.
Gosh, this is a near-deserted land,
no trees, no water just the semi-arid edge
of the Rocky Mountainís high plains.
It is so god-forsaken so nothingness,
look down, see a field mouse getting grass seeds.
Two black bugs leaving a trail as they forage,
all trying to store winter sustenance,
all striving to survive.
Hawk overhead squawks,
mouse hides, shivering.
Two Chukkars fly up in front of me,
I hear the yip of a coyote.
in a few minutes I see a pair of red foxes,
running down the small hill toward their den.
I stop and again look about.
This land is not barren,
it has lots of activity, lots of living creatures.
Up on a ridge I hear a birdís song.
Pick up a small piece of white quartz,
hoping it will be an arrow head.
No luck as I spot a brown lima bean pebble,
remembering a poem of some years back.
Carefully I do not step on any vegetation,
nor leave any trash.
I slowly meander off toward my truck.
I love this land.
By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)
Photograph of Happy Jack, Wyoming.