pools ponds powder

i dog paddle
i frog kick another lap
in the less than pristine pool
my skin drinks the feel of water
and soothes a hunger

i am still trying to shake off

the whopping poof of smoky powder
flying through the kitchen
Just from tying my laces.

My walking shoes
Have walked every day
In wind
Which changes direction
by the hour.
But not the content.


the rivers and canals
bone dry
the dog looks at me
he questions me
as if i am responsible
perhaps i am.

Foolhardy are we
to believe in a
vanquished Nature.
Dustbowl eras have ended.
Yet, here i find it has returned
in my kitchen.

Specks of Montana and Oklahoma
Dancing in the sunlight. from the
Sunroom window
Where the aspen trees twist dangerously
In daily Breezy conditions.

I worry about the warm days.
I worry about the trees leafing
out in January.
thousands of white bags
Roiling down the alleys
Headed for the Gulf of Mexico.
Or Alternately by the hour
The Arctic Circle.

I worry about Spring
Where certainly, as is often true,
Mother Nature will sing her revenge.

Yellow Dog won’t move today
from his new
Two ply bed.
Not even when I pick up his leash.
Clouds of dust fluff from his ears
When he shakes his head, No. No.
coughing like an asthmatic.

I scream at the constantly
Grey dirt sky.
People are staring at me.

my dad says
many people were driven to
insanity by the sifting dust of the 30s
i am there with them now

i brake my car in the middle
of an abandoned Street
to disentangle a mass of contractor’s plastic
choking a honeysuckle

Frightening my passengers
and a few lookers on.

It is full of powder.
Idaho. I decide.
maybe a grain or two of Nebraska


  1. This is great. So sad to see all the bare ground and the lack of snow. My prayer that the snow or rain will come soon. I feel so sorry for the farmers. JW

  2. Just LOVE this. Shame on us all for not acting more quickly, only more selfishly. These words will become a part of our environmental history. Well written, my friend! ***mcb***

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