Wyoming

Wyoming

It's snowflakes falling on clay

hills. Sagebrush wafting along a breeze

through open windows; carried bareback

on water droplet cattle drives.

It's thunder announcing a stampede

of Black Angus storm clouds

ready to run the gully shoots

foaming and frothing, pent-up

electric anxiety, bellowing

lows send shivers as showers

find pastures in meadows

where Indian Paintbrushes grow.

It's mountains covered in juniper

and pine mixing with bleached and blotched

quackies. Valleys filled with waist-high

grasses, hidden beaver ponds

where moose munch on willows.

It's driving miles to a city and cussing

at traffic, and when there's traffic lights

instead of stop signs. And, when it takes

longer to go to a store than to the mountains.

It's knowing that home

is blue skies, howling wind,

open land,

and star-filled nights.