(Dedicated to, and at the request of, April Dawn Whited)
The crisp biting night air
Pure, invigorating, and clean
Knifes into my psyche
As I step from my cabin
And take a deep draught
Into my lungs, stretching
Back and yawning away the sleep
Rubbing the kernels from my eyes
High in the Sierra Madres
In California's Mother Lode country
The smell of coffee, and
The still lingering aroma
Of pungent smoked bacon and
Sourdough biscuits
Fills my nostrils with an
Instant replay of my recent meal.
I look out toward Nevada
East, where the Chinese
Are getting ready for bed
Along the craggy spine
Of the neighboring ridge
Of rocks, thrust by
Unimaginable forces of nature
Into the mountain range
That I call my home.
I sit on the old stump and
Take out my briar pipe
Carefully filling it with
Tobacco from my monthly
Trip to the small trading
Post, a one days journey toward the
Blue Pacific Ocean shore.
I light and tamp my pipe,
Getting it going good,
I reach down and scratch
The ears of Dutch, my
Companion of these fifteen years.
I reflect on my sins and my
Achievements, as all us
Oldsters do, smiling to
Myself when pleasant memories
Paint their pictures on my mind.
Leaning back against the logs
That form the walls of my
Cabin, I sigh in contentment
Reminiscing and reliving the highlights of my years
With Snow Princess, my beautiful Indian wife and
Mother of our two broad-shouldered sons and
My long-legged, tomboy daughter,
Gone now, to seek their
Fortunes and get their
Book learning in far away
San Francisco, Istanbul,
And the frenzy called New York.
Dutch rolls playfully on his back
to
Receive his favorite tummy rubs and
Chest scratching and his tail beats
A dusty tattoo upon the ground
He looks at me and I see
Thoughts of love and companionship
Deep in his canine eyes.
Startled, I look up and see an
eagle
Soaring aloft effortlessly
Riding the thermals
Looking for breakfast to go scurrying
Unawares, somewhere down here.
Today, I will work the north fork
of my
Stream until the heat of the day drives
Me to abandon my claim and hike
To the crystal blue mountain lake
Five miles to the north of me
Where I will swim naked, and catch
A couple of fat rainbow trout for dinner.
My deerskin poke is nearly full of
gold,
Soon I can stop and amble down
To civilization to spend it on
Silly things like an evening
With a painted woman, maybe a
Picture show, and necessities
Like flour, salt, beans and tobacco.
My attention is drawn to the
East where the morning sun
Seems to burst into the sky.
As the first golden rays
Creep across the fields of
Poppies, I am struck by their
Delicate golden beauty. Contrasting this
With patches of wild alfalfa
And the amazing showy white
Bridal veil of the blooming wild yucca,
God paints a canvas more spectacular
Than any artist has ever captured.
The camp robber jay swoops and
squawks at
Thomas, who is getting old now
A little lame, and blind in one eye
He has learned to ignore this
Winged jester. The sun finally
Reaches me and warms the
Lingering chill from my bones.
Sighing, I gather up my
implements,
My lunch, and with one backward
Look at this April Dawn,
I move swiftly and surely
Up the well-trod path to my workings.
Written by Dale E. Malone, Did I
sound like I had been there?
The Great & Wonderful Kahuna wants to know!
Last
modified: April 26, 2009