I trek Dividing Ridge to investigate
the persistent putter that sputters
across the crest of the abandoned
lane left for dead like a rusted truck.
The gate to Hawks Point off its top
joint creaks in the day’s unexpected
squall of a spring gale and when my
inspect for four-wheel tracks reveals
heavy press of bovine feet through
the Clear Pasture my antennae glow
intense. I‘m incensed: an invasion
of the wildflower field where nature’s
flowers grow for the bread of my dreams.
Dread overcomes dull sense when
the whole herd is heard in full munch
of rare hyacinth and I bound forward
all akimbo to shoo such a cudish
bunch from my coveted treasure.
Alas, Negligent Neighbor shows up
on a John Deere gator, slows to count
his torrid gals and mashes the remnant
Ephemera. Illusion takes a hard blow
from the mobile combustion of his cattle
prattle as high above in the mottled sky
the pulled cinch of a cumulous saddle
unleashes a drench on this Charolais Mush:
Plato’s ideal caves in from the sad deal done
below where delicate bloom is doomed
to the sideways chew of Holy Cows.