I thought to tread new fields where bulldogs frolic
Growling gladly as they gallop with their
Jowls flinging drool at every step and
Shaking their heads in mock anger that will
Soon grow all too real
So lush
Watered by youthful sprays refreshed
With every season and its new hopes and by
Just as much shit spread thickly
Pounded in by passing feet
And I left the scrappy stands of oaks and cedars and mesquites
Rising from the thin soil
Perched precariously atop the limestone hills
Mildewing where they have been shorn away
Graves of the dead
Gone so long they do not matter anymore
Any names they had long since lost to themselves
Never known by after-comers
And I came late upon them
Stalked away from where I should have bounded
Four-point buck that I once was
And very much in rut throughout the year
Even if no one took the point I presented
I meant to graze upon that green
The many leaves feeding me
More than I would have found where I was
As I see clearly looking back
And looking back
And looking back
Where gold limns the cerulean above and
Bluebonnets below
Sometimes
Good times
That I know I will not see again
But my belly is empty now
As the fawn spotted beside the flinty stream
Looking up at where eagles soar
Bounces dancing up to marble falls
And that will have to be enough

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