KINDRED SPIRITS, by J. B. Allen (1938-2005)

kindred2018photo © 2018, Amy Hale Auker

 

KINDRED SPIRITS
by J. B. Allen (1938-2005)

The spotted Heifer missed the drive
and spent the winter free,
‘Though freedom’s price was willow bark
then sprigs of filaree
That finally showed beneath the snow
before her strength played out.
And green-up brought a fine bull calf
to teach the maverick route.

They fattened on the meadows
of the high Sierra’s flanks
In the company of a maverick bull
that drifted from the ranks
Of cattle across the great divide
turned loose to make their way
And lost amongst the canyons
that were strewn in disarray.

The offspring of this union
proved a wily beast, indeed,
Endowed with instincts from the wild
and blessed with wond’rous speed
That proved a worthy challenge
to the punchers in the hills
Who through the hills spun hairy tales
of wildest wrecks and spills.

But though the issue from the two
was sometimes trapped or caught,
These two ol’ wily veterans
still practiced what they taught,
Spent the winters running free
within their secret haunt
Which held enough to see ’em through
emergin’ weak and gaunt.

For years ol’ Utah searched the range
in futile quest for sign
Of where they spent the winter months a
and somehow get a line
On how they made it every year
and brought a calf, to boot,
‘Til fin’lly one cold, dreary day
it fell to this old coot

To happen on their winter park,
hid out from pryin’ eyes,
And to this day ol’ Utah holds
the key to where it lies.
The kindred spirit, shared by all,
who seek the higher range
Could not betray that cul-de-sac
to folks just bent on change

With no respect for mav’rick ways
or independent thought,
And not one frazz’lin’ idee
of the havoc being wrought
By puttin’ things on schedule,
be it work, or man, or cow,
Till ways that make for bein’ free
are bred plumb-out somehow.

Old Utah turned and trotted off,
to let those old hides be.
His heart a-beatin’ lighter
just a-knowin’ they were free.

© 1997, J.B. Allen, used with permission
This poem should not be re-posted or reprinted without permission.

Texan J.B. Allen was a working cowboy for over three decades. He was a frequent performer at the Western Folklife Center’s National Cowboy Poetry Gathering and also at the Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering, Nara Visa, the Arizona Cowboy Poets Gathering, and other events. His poetry is included in many anthologies and in his own books and recordings.

His book, The Medicine Keepers, received the Western Heritage Wrangler Award from the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum in 1998. The late Buck Ramsey, in his introduction to the book, wrote of J.B. Allen, “More than most cowboys, he held to the ways and memories…thought and talked the old lingo” and states, “…in my opinion he is the best living writer of traditional cowboy verse.”

J.B. Allen’s poetry is featured in a CD from CowboyPoetry.com, MASTERS, along with the work of Larry McWhorter, J.B. Allen, Sunny Hancock, and Ray Owens. The compilation includes recorded poems, “live” performances, and their recitations of other masters’ works (Buck Ramsey, S. Omar Barker, and Henry Herbert Knibbs), with an introduction by Jay Snider.

Find more about J.B. Allen at CowboyPoetry.com.

This photograph is by cowhand, writer, and poet Amy Hale Auker Author, with a great photographic eye, who cowboys with her husband Gail Steiger in rugged country at Arizona’s Spider ranch.

A collection of her poetry, Livestock Man, was just released from PenL Publishing. Andy Hedges, songster and host of COWBOY CROSSROADS comments on the book, “Amy Hale Auker combines her experience as a working cowboy with her love for language and writes verse that tears down any fences one might try to put around cowboy poetry.” Find more about her essays, novels, poetry and more at amyhaleauker.com and on CowboyPoetry.com. See more of her photography on Instagram.

(Please respect copyright. You can share this post and photograph with this post, but for other uses, please request permission.)

LIVESTOCK MAN by Amy Hale Auker

livestockman

 

LIVESTOCK MAN
by Amy Hale Auker

I need to write a new poem about what it is like, as a woman, to cowboy for a living.

All I can come up with is how much I hate it when my toes get cold.

All I can think of is that last old cow we put on the trailer for the sale barn, about the scorpion that ran away when I rolled my bed out on the ground at Alkali Spring in August, about how I alone can catch that roan mare when she won’t let the men lay a hand on her.

All I can come up with is that I like cows and like them, I have ovulated, copulated, gestated a miracle in my body, and lactated… for months.

I think I’m qualified to be a herder of mammals.

And that is what I am. I am a herder, a custodian, a caretaker, a steward.

I am a livestock man.

I grow food.

I need to write a new poem about what is like, as a woman, to cowboy.

But there are no new poems and we’re never finished shipping cattle in the fall.

There may be new foxes in the night and new orioles in the canyon and new griefs to be born and new ways of looking at the world, and oh don’t let me become blind.

And I might become blind if you put me in your cage of expectations.

For I have a rebel heart and that rebel heart gives me the grit to stay in my saddle even after it turns sideways when the bullfight breaks and we’re in the way.

And that rebel heart says this poem… doesn’t have to rhyme.

I need the language to tell about what it is that I do,
but all I have are nouns:
weather and wind and wool
and rock and rattle and remuda.
Smoke and sweat and sunrise and savvy.
Tracks and tinajas and trails and tally.
Cow and count and coffee and canyon,
logistics and latigos and loops.
Moonshadow and mother and manure
and moisture in the air.
Hooves and javelin and how sharp is your pocket knife?

I need the words to tell this story but all I have are verbs:
pee in the dirt
and dally up and build again
and don’t cry when you get yelled at.
Back off that little heifer and ride up! Don’t let that bull bluff you out. We’ll never get him again.
Thaw the frozen coffee pot.
Blink the smoke out of your eyes.
Wipe the blood off your chin.
Dig the snowballs out of your horse’s hooves.
Hurry up and get the gate; there’s a storm moving in.
Open a can of chili. Let’s eat before it gets plumb dark.

I need to tell about working for $75 a day, but all I can come up with is that little cow we left behind up on the mesa. We’d been gathering into the trap for four days and our first calf heifers run in the general herd and our bulls are out year ‘round…

but she didn’t bring her newborn in to hay
…and we had to go.

We cut her back with that old hooky cow’s daughter and her calf because the hooky cow’s daughter is mean, meaner than that ol’ hooky cow ever thought about being

…and no coyote or lion is going to get that baby.

But then it snowed.

And I don’t know what it is you think about in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep…

Do you think of soft tender hooves and fresh new life up under a cedar tree at 6000 feet with a mama who’s new to this gig?

I need to write a new poem about what it is like to cowboy.

Without the requisite body parts.

……Wanna see my tattoos?

© 2016, Amy Hale Auker, used with permission
This poem should not be reposted or reprinted without permission

To fully enjoy and appreciate this poem, tune into Andy Hedges’ Cowboy Crossroads. In the most recent episode, cowboy and writer Amy Hale Auker delivers an outstanding recitation.

In the program, she also talks about the roots of her love of language; the inspiration of the writers and livestock men in her family; how she developed her writing and her daily practice; her life as a ranch wife and later as a working cowboy; and more. She speaks of her writing mentors, particularly Andy Wilkinson, who today is one of her editors.

She tells that the form of this poem—a poem that so eloquently speaks to her cowboying life on the Spider Ranch in Yavapai County, Arizona—was inspired in part by slam poetry, which she explains has similarities with cowboy poetry.

Livestock Man is also the title poem of her latest book, a poetry collection from Pen-L Publishing. The cover is from a photograph by photojournalist Jessica Lifland. Andy Hedges comments on the new release, “Amy Hale Auker combines her experience as a working cowboy with her love for language and writes verse that tears down any fences one might try to put around cowboy poetry.”

See more about Amy Hale Auker at CowboyPoetry.com and at amyhaleauker.com, where there is information about all of her books, and more.

Catch Amy Hale Auker next week, August 9-11, at the Arizona Cowboy Poets Gathering.

crossroads

Listen to Cowboy Crossroads at andyhedges.com/cowboy-crossroads. The popular podcast, a growing, lasting archive of engaging interviews with those involved in the working West and beyond, includes episodes with Don Edwards, Gary McMahan, Waddie Mitchell, Randy Rieman, Dom Flemons, Mike Beck, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, Hal Cannon, Andy Wilkinson, Jerry Brooks, Wallace McRae, and others.

(Please respect copyright. You can share this poem with this post, but for other uses, request permission.)

KINDRED SPIRITS by J. B. Allen (1938-2005)

Allen, J.B. #551-'03-5x5

photo ©  Kevin Martini-Fuller

KINDRED SPIRITS
by J. B. Allen (1938-2005)

The spotted heifer missed the drive
and spent the winter free,
‘Though freedom’s price was willow bark
then sprigs of filaree
That finally showed beneath the snow
before her strength played out.
And green-up brought a fine bull calf
to teach the maverick route.

They fattened on the meadows
of the high Sierra’s flanks
In the company of a maverick bull
that drifted from the ranks
Of cattle across the great divide
turned loose to make their way
And lost amongst the canyons
that were strewn in disarray.

The offspring of this union
proved a wily beast,indeed,
Endowed with instincts from the wild
and blessed with wond’rous speed
That proved a worthy challenge
to the punchers in the hills
Who through the hills spun hairy tales
of wildest wrecks and spills.

But though the issue from the two
was sometimes trapped or caught,
These two ol’ wily veterans
still practiced what they taught,
Spent the winters running free
within their secret haunt
Which held enough to see ’em through
emergin’ weak and gaunt.

For years ol’ Utah searched the range
in futile quest for sign
Of where they spent the winter months a
and somehow get a line
On how they made it every year
and brought a calf, to boot,
‘Til fin’lly one cold, dreary day
it fell to this old coot

To happen on their winter park,
hid out from pryin’ eyes,
And to this day ol’ Utah holds
the key to where it lies.
The kindred spirit, shared by all,
who seek the higher range
Could not betray that cul-de-sac
to folks just bent on change

With no respect for mav’rick ways
or independent thought,
And not one frazz’lin’ idee
of the havoc being wrought
By puttin’ things on schedule,
be it work, or man, or cow,
Till ways that make for bein’ free
are bred plumb-out somehow.

Old Utah turned and trotted off,
to let those old hides be.
His heart a-beatin’ lighter
just a-knowin’ they were free.

© 1997, J.B. Allen
This poem should not be reprinted or reposted without permission

Texan J.B. Allen was a working cowboy for over three decades. He was a frequent performer at the Western Folklife Center’s National Cowboy Poetry Gathering and also at the Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering, Nara Visa, the Arizona Cowboy Poets Gathering, and other events. His poetry is included in many anthologies and in his own books and recordings. His book, The Medicine Keepers, received the Western Heritage Wrangler Award from the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum in 1998.

J.B. Allen’s poetry is featured in a 2017 CD from CowboyPoetry.com, MASTERS, along with the work of Larry McWhorter, J.B. Allen, Sunny Hancock, and Ray Owens. The compilation includes recorded poems, “live” performances, and their recitations of other masters’ works (Buck Ramsey, S. Omar Barker, and Henry Herbert Knibbs) with an introduction by Jay Snider.

Andy Hedges, songster and host of COWBOY CROSSROADS  comments on the CD, “This album represents four of the finest poets to ever come out of cowboy culture. We are not likely to see their kind again and the world should be grateful to Cowboypoetry.com for preserving their voices.”

There’s now a second volume of MASTERS, with the poetry of S. Omar BARKER. The CDs are offered to rural libraries across the West in the CowboyPoetry.com outreach Rural Library Program, a part of Cowboy Poetry Week. They are also given as a thank-you to our supporters and are available for purchase. Find more about both MASTERS CDs here.

This photo of J.B. Allen is by top photographer Kevin Martini-Fuller, who has photographed participants of the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering for over three decades. Find some of those photos at his site, http://kevinmartinifuller.zenfolio.com/all-photographs.

Thanks to Margaret Allen for her generous permissions.

(Please respect copyright. You can share this post and photograph with this post, but for other uses, please request permission.)

>>>This is a scheduled post. We’re on a (rare) break, through May 23. There will be scheduled posts, but we won’t be able to fill orders or to respond quickly to email.<<<

IT SORTA MAKES SENSE by Virginia Bennett

 

gaildogs

 

IT SORTA MAKES SENSE
by Virginia Bennett

A friend of mine, (I’ll call him Pete)
was watching TV the other day.
He listened to some reporter,
believin’ all he had to say.
It was a “human interest piece”
tho’ some would call it fluff.
And, it showed a lot of fancy folks
with their poodles struttin’ stuff.

And, the reporter said, “It has long been
established as a scientific fact
that dogs look like their owners
and by data this has been backed.”
Well, Pete looked down at his old dog
lyin’ faithfully on the floor:
His tongue lolled out (the dog’s, not Pete’s)
as he laid there in full-snore.

His one good eye was swollen shut
from one of the milk-cow’s kicks.
He’d lost patches of his mangy fur
from diggin’ at his ticks.
A trophy brought home gallantly
from a coyote fight last week,
was one ear torn completely in half
and a new scar on his beak.

He had porky quills stickin’ out of his gums
he only had one dew claw…
And since the stud horse aimed just right
he drinks his toilet water through a straw!
Yes, Pete looked down, then looked at the screen
his cowboy mind in a muddled fog.
And said, “If it’s true that dogs look like their owners…
then, I gotta get a better lookin’ dog!”

©2004, Virginia Bennett, used with permission

Cowboy, horsewoman, poet, musician, writer, and editor Virginia Bennett’s respected body of work is collected in her books and in a number of anthologies. This poem is included in her most recent book, In the Company of Horses. She’s the editor of two important collections, Cowgirl Poetry and Cowboy Poetry: The Reunion.

She was often a featured poet at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering and other events until she suffered a serious horse-related injury about ten years ago.

Find some selections of her poetry and more about her and her publications in our feature at CowboyPoetry.com.

This photo is by writer, poet, and working cowboy Amy Steiger (Amy Hale Auker), who works on Arizona’s Spider ranch with ranch manager, songwriter, poet and filmmaker (and her husband) Gail Steiger, who is shown.

Amy Steiger has four acclaimed books: two novels and two essay collections. The latest collection, Ordinary Skin, was recently released (see the glowing reviews on Amazon). Find more about Amy Steiger  at AmyHaleAuker.com.

Amy and Gail Steiger appear along with Caitlyn Taussig and Ramblin’ Jack Elliott on September 9, 2017 in Napa, California at the 3rd annual National Cowboy Poetry Gathering on the Road in Napa Valley hosted by Napa Valley Performing Arts Center at Lincoln Theater and the Western Folklife Center. Find more about it at Facebook.

 

“Ordinary Skin” by Amy Hale Auker

ordinary skin.jpg

 

From writer, poet, and working cowboy Amy Hale Auker’s new collection of creative nonfiction, Ordinary Skin: Essays from Willow Springs:

Icons only work if there is something of substance to back them up. The cowboy as icon only works if we keep the bedrock, the substance behind him. He is not some model of character or ethics or integrity, but a husband of the land, a grower of food. He is not an actor getting his share of the corporate take by reciting the words of scriptwriters and asking his horse to rear in time to the music. The cowboy is not a nostalgic touchstone from Saturday matinees, but a present-day reality, saddling his horse and getting greasy in the shop and building a fence. Six-guns and wooly chaps and parades and rodeos aside, the cowboy is a steward of precious resources, a caretaker of animals.

Amy Hale Auker’s Ordinary Skin is a deeply personal and original view from today’s working West.  “Thoughtful” would be too passive a description for the writing; she is anything but passive. She is startlingly present, exquisitely and equally attuned to mud bugs and cows and horses with attitude and the heart of an aged grandfather. It’s an outstanding collection of narrative nonfiction, brave in its honesty and vast in its themes.

And the narrative is the thing. She is a deft storyteller. Her transition from ranch wife to working cowboy was hard won and she writes about it candidly, in descriptions both tough and tender. Hers is not your grandfather’s cowboy life. Or is it? She offers up plenty of cowboy tales, with all the failures and successes of ranch work. It is the “romance of ranching life,” both in its ironic sense and its sense of deep fulfillment.

There are rich, often sensuous, passages, especially when she writes of her ranch manager partner and lover and their labor together in Arizona’s remote and rugged Santa Maria mountains. One moving piece begins, “…We rode out early of a morning after a big fight the night before. Working together means no time-out after hurtful words in the dark …” The long ride to their destination helps to heal, “As we stepped off to air our horses’ backs before dropping down into the deep crease in the earth, a heavy late-spring snow began to fall all around us, one of the most beautiful moments of my life…” You’ll want to read about what happened next.

She observes others, especially her family, with clarity and compassion, even when their style may be contrary to her own. In one anecdote, her father’s anger has the family sitting at the dinner table in “stiff silence,” no one wanting to become the focus of his attention. She writes, “My mother, always and forever trying to make peace, looked out the plate glass window and said, ‘My, aren’t the birds pretty.'” There’s no judgment in the telling of the story. She tells it like it was, and you find yourself as relieved as the rest of the family must have been when the comment breaks the tension and leads her father to respond with a roar of laughter. Next, you may find yourself reflecting on the lessons there. Once again Amy Hale Auker shows you something, and leaves any conclusions to the reader.

Ordinary Skin is much worth savoring and contemplating. The writing is polished to a sheen: “First came glassy jewels of hail the size of juniper berries and just as blue. Then came driving sideways rain and the ground began to run and move and designate its low places and its high.”

Amy Hale Auker fearlessly makes her own way through a challenging and rewarding life, paying attention. There’s no hubris in these essays, just keen observation, respect and love for friends and family, and a humble reverence for and curiosity about the natural world. Like the best poetry—and her prose often approaches poetry—the writing is filled with metaphor, the sort that might make you gaze up from the book and stop to consider, for example, what you and those mudbugs might have in common.

With well-received books to her credit (a previous book of essays and two novels) her steady voice has become an important voice. In Ordinary Skin, that voice soars.

Ordinary Skin is published by Texas Tech University Press, under the wise and guiding hand of  Senior Editor Andy Wilkinson, as a part of the “Voice in the American West” series.

Find more at www.amyhaleauker.com.

 

 

 

KINDRED SPIRITS by J. B. Allen (1938-2005)

amybull

photo © 2017, Amy Hale Auker

KINDRED SPIRITS
by J. B. Allen (1938-2005)

The spotted heifer missed the drive
and spent the winter free,
‘Though freedom’s price was willow bark
then sprigs of filaree
That finally showed beneath the snow
before her strength played out.
And green-up brought a fine bull calf
to teach the maverick route.

They fattened on the meadows
of the high Sierra’s flanks
In the company of a maverick bull
that drifted from the ranks
Of cattle across the great divide
turned loose to make their way
And lost amongst the canyons
that were strewn in disarray.

The offspring of this union
proved a wily beast,indeed,
Endowed with instincts from the wild
and blessed with wond’rous speed
That proved a worthy challenge
to the punchers in the hills
Who through the hills spun hairy tales
of wildest wrecks and spills.

But though the issue from the two
was sometimes trapped or caught,
These two ol’ wily veterans
still practiced what they taught,
Spent the winters running free
within their secret haunt
Which held enough to see ’em through
emergin’ weak and gaunt.

For years ol’ Utah searched the range
in futile quest for sign
Of where they spent the winter months a
and somehow get a line
On how they made it every year
and brought a calf, to boot,
‘Til fin’lly one cold, dreary day
it fell to this old coot

To happen on their winter park,
hid out from pryin’ eyes,
And to this day ol’ Utah holds
the key to where it lies.
The kindred spirit, shared by all,
who seek the higher range
Could not betray that cul-de-sac
to folks just bent on change

With no respect for mav’rick ways
or independent thought,
And not one frazz’lin’ idee
of the havoc being wrought
By puttin’ things on schedule,
be it work, or man, or cow,
Till ways that make for bein’ free
are bred plumb-out somehow.

Old Utah turned and trotted off,
to let those old hides be.
His heart a-beatin’ lighter
just a-knowin’ they were free.

© 1997, J.B. Allen
This poem should not be reprinted or reposted without permission

Texan J.B. Allen was a working cowboy for over three decades. He was a frequent performer at the Western Folklife Center’s National Cowboy Poetry Gathering and also at the Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering, Nara Visa, the Arizona Cowboy Poets Gathering, and other events. His poetry is included in many anthologies and in his own books and recordings. His book, The Medicine Keepers, received the Western Heritage Wrangler Award from the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum in 1998.

J.B. Allen’s poetry is featured in a new CD from CowboyPoetry.com, MASTERS, along with the work of Larry McWhorter, J.B. Allen, Sunny Hancock, and Ray Owens. The compilation includes recorded poems, “live” performances, and their recitations of other masters’ works (Buck Ramsey, S. Omar Barker, and Henry Herbert Knibbs) with an introduction by Jay Snider.

Andy Hedges, songster and host of COWBOY CROSSROADS  comments on the CD, “This album represents four of the finest poets to ever come out of cowboy culture. We are not likely to see their kind again and the world should be grateful to Cowboypoetry.com for preserving their voices.”

MASTERS has been offered to rural libraries across the West in the CowboyPoetry.com outreach Rural Library Program, a part of Cowboy Poetry Week. It was also given as a thank-you to our supporters and is available for purchase. Find more about MASTERS here.

Find more about J.B. Allen at CowboyPoetry.com.

This photograph is by cow hand, writer, and poet Amy Hale Auker, taken a couple of weeks ago. She cowboys with her husband Gail Steiger in rugged country at Arizona’s Spider ranch. About this photo, she noted, “We rarely run anything through the chute, but this huge maverick bull came from down in the low country. We drove him out with gentle cows, sixteen miles.A quick brand in the chute and he’s free again.”

Look for Amy Hale Auker’s new book, Ordinary Skin: Essays from Willow Springs, from Texas Tech University Press in May. Find more about her at her web siteon CowboyPoetry.com, on Facebook, and on Instagram.

RIDING TO CAMP IN FALL by Amy Hale Auker

amygail

RIDING TO CAMP IN FALL
by Amy Hale Auker

I am riding to camp in the evening,
The sun resting low in the day
The date marks the start of the season
When the wind gets cool, starts to play.

These horses are shiny and soft
With bellies full of monsoon grass
I wish they’d save their energy
But these fool notions will soon pass.

We don’t ride with a big crew on this outfit
Just me and you most of the time
But we’re lovers so it suits us
And the work’s getting done just fine.

You’re coming behind in the old brown truck
With food and our camp and our gear,
Pulling that rattle-y green trailer
full of alfalfa so rich and so dear.

This little bay mare is full of herself,
Kicking at the horse trailing behind,
There’s a big job ahead, little sister,
Better settle into a pace you like.

We’ve reached the creek and the clover is high.
These ponies are winding a bear.
Maybe the one whose tracks we’ve been seeing.
I wonder if he’ll winter ‘round here.

I’m sure looking forward to cow works this fall
To moving these girls down the way.
To long slow drives with gentle cows,
And a toddy at the end of the day.

I’m climbing the hill, almost to camp
A place of water and work and real.
I’ll hobble these mares and wait for you
To build a fire, pour a drink, make a meal.

For a few days we’ll gather into this trap,
Drink coffee from that old blue pot,
Strip saddles from the backs of sweating mounts
And talk about each cow we got.

I’m not sure which stars burn above
But I bet I’ll know by dawn.
I’ll lie in our bed with their swing overhead
And me held snug in your arms.

Tomorrow we start this cow and bull hunt
It’s catch and release every year,
But you couldn’t pay me to stay at home
When most of what I love is out here.

© 2016, Amy Hale Auker, used with permission
Writer, poet, and working cowboy Amy Steiger (who writes under the name “Amy Hale Auker”) works on Arizona’s Spider ranch. She told us, “…I usually only write a poem that rhymes when I am horseback, so I can remember it when I unsaddle. I wrote this one last fall between headquarters and camp.”

Amy Steiger is the author of three acclaimed books, two novels and an essay collection. Another essay collection, Ordinary Skin, is pending publication.

Find Amy Steiger at the Durango Cowboy Poetry Gathering (Sept 29-Oct 1). In early 2017 she’s featured at the Western Folklife Center’s National Cowboy Poetry Gathering (January 30-February 4) and the Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering (February 23-24). Find more about Amy Steiger on Facebook; at CowboyPoetry.com; and at AmyHaleAuker.com, where you’ll find more about her books and see more of her writing.

This photograph of Amy and Gail Steiger is by impressive photojournalist Jessica Brandi Lifland and used with her permission.

It is from a series of photographs in her “Cowboy Poets” project. See a blog post and more of the photos here.

Don’t miss the additional series of photographs, of poets Rodney Nelson, Wally McRae, Henry Real Bird, Jack Walther, Bimbo Cheney, Waddie Mitchell, Doris Daley, Jerry Brooks, Elizabeth Ebert, D.W. Groethe, and Bill Lowman posted here.

(Please respect copyright. You can share this poem and photo with this post, but please request permission for any other uses.)