With his Proven Leadership
In the middle of horse country,
A scale model in some ways
But in others, it's the middle of nowhere
Where the one road can be roped off
By chippers for each emergency
And they are frequent.
With the micro-monsoons
And Santa Ana corridors
In these well-oaked canyons
Clear to Riverside.
A bald with blues
Glows now
In the incredible radiance of nature
On all cylinders,
Now helping the earth
Lift us with it
To a higher version
Of the same place.
There's a new post at the ranch:
A purple butterfly wings jump.
The baby birds would give themselves
Back to source as gleefully as mushrooms
Were they not programmed for survival
So we get the fear
And they take care of their own removal;
It doesn't have to be this way, and it isn't,
There are plenty of birds to go around,
Though every human stumbles to see
So many falling from the sky newborn
And grey, opened too wide
To a world that does nothing but give.
The air is colder now.
The hawks don't look at it
As if they are baby chicks
But a reading of the horizon,
What is there, available
To discover what it is
And the what it is not
That is the source,
Also what it is, as the pale is
Blue eyes going to infinity
Our only true home.
They still talk today
How, when the last fire came
They medivaced the horses by copter,
Before the people
And all of them were saved,
None of the few homes here were damaged.
They're lucky that way, they opt out
Of what nature doesn't want them to do --
Everyone takes orders
From the truth that can be seen
In the sky, just like the whirring
Birds their merry-go-rounds of sound
Saying "me" in all the countless ways,
Advertising themselves to the one ear,
The sun and the hawk, who also
Only follows what is ordered.
