life and grit

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

         MONTANA PASTORAL                                            

 

 

 

 

 

I am no shepherd of a child’s surmises.

I have seen fear where the coiled serpent rises,

Thirst where the grasses burn in early May

And thistle, mustard, and the wild oat stay.

There is dust in this air. I saw in the heat

Grasshoppers busy in the threshing wheat.

So to this hour. Through the warm dusk I drove

To blizzards sifting on the hissing stove,

And found no images of pastoral will,

But fear, thirst, hunger, and this huddled chill.

 

 

 

 

                       J V Cunningham

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