Steve Meador is the author of Throwing Percy from the Cherry Tree, a poetry book that was an entrant for a National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize in poetry. He is widely published in online and print journals. He has been a real estate broker since the early 1980s and currently lives and practices in the Tampa, FL, area.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Colorado, August 2012

If I were a magpie I would certainly fly, away from the man with the stone-brown tan, away from the man with the camera.  

Black-billed magpie (Pica hudsonia)

 A rose is a rose along any road.

Across the flat, in brights and blacks, we took in late morning hues in a ramshackle shed sown together with threads, holding implements not often used.

I found love in Loveland. It appeared behind the window of a small restaurant at the corner of Cleveland and Fourth, in shapely form and sipping a cold drink on a blistering day. I waited until love glanced and smiled, then went in for lunch.

It is a place where something intriguing always seems to be on the horizon.

added 9/8/2012

 At the edge of a vast field, which was the beginning of rattlesnake country, I happened upon two small dogs. They were thirsty and I gave them water. Then they wanted to follow me into the hazardous place. I took from my pocket a small red globe and placed the dogs in it for their safety. I was able to see where they two lived and took them there later.

 The season for growing is short, one has to race the birds and bees to get the best fruit.

 I think I could live along the St. Vrain, with its daffodils in spring and summertime flow of melted snow draining from cold elevations.

Loneliness is only a spit away, depending on the speed of the wind.

added 9/11

 Mule deer (Odocoileus hemionus)

Black bear (Ursus americanus)

Nature is repairing the fire damage in Poudre canyon quickly.I was surprised at how the fire destroyed small pockets of areas, sometimes only a couple acres, then left the next acreage untouched. We did not get into the areas that were total loss.

The banks of the Poudre river were generously littered with charred debris, nearly weightless and easy to crush into powder.