POETRY
Homer Wilson Ranch
Let your eyes fill in how it might have been:
ranch hands driving sheep down the dry creek bed,
men crowded in the bunkhouse. Were they friends,
or enemies on tacit truce’s ledge?
Now human feet plod through gravel,
hikers on a mission to the rare red
canyon, pilgrims of beauty. The table
of glory was set long ago, the tread
of time has sculpted it to perfection.
Ghosts haunt the desert wind. The carousel
spins around the mountain. Four directions
spring life from stones. Sheep still march to the well,
with no shepherd to guide them, just a map
set deep in their bones. Wonder calls them back.
You didn’t think I could go out west and not come back with a sonnet, did you?? This year we stopped by the Homer Wilson Ranch and walked into an area called Red Rocks Canyon, thanks to the park’s newspaper mentioning this hike. We have driven by the parking area for it countless times, but had yet to stop. It was wonderful! We loved the ranch, and we loved the hike.
You can read about it here, and here, and below are a few more photographs. Thank you, readers!
