Rambling Over Horseshoe Hills

RAMBLING OVER THE HORSESHOE HILLSLike the herd of branded horsesnow free to roam their winter pastureoutdoor women ramble over the Horseshoe Hillsthe rattlesnake’s favorite haunt.Like these horses, we women forsake the road.Yearning to mimic nimble antelopeseen in the distance, we stride out over hillsthat lead to others. Dry gullies form a seamof rocks below. Exuberance revs out of some secretmotor. How tall we feel above the spindly vegetation.What is there to protect the sloping fields?Last year’s sage and yucca still struggle.Yet, cedar and juniper give an illusion of vitalityin this territory where clouds throw downmore shadows than rain.Stories ride our hips like water bottles.Here our spirits govern. Though some tick findsa blouse front for its own slow journey.The friendlier swooping sight of falcons is the trade off.Flat white teeth bottoms of a skeletal horse headgleam up at us. And moving down the juniper-sided hillsno one misses the antelope jaw bone.I declare I love the resolute, unflinching wanderlustof palomino blondes, sorrel redheads, chestnut maned femaleson a Tuesday far from where we are expected to be,an earthy distance from cafe menus, or the confinesof our own kitchens as we poke around this western universeland snorkeling one step at a time. And on our backswe carry what we need to keep us going on our blessed feet.- June SaffordMy poem Rambling Over The Horseshoe Hills has no photo to go with it. I must have  not taken my camera that day and wrote the poem to replace any still image. I am sending  images of new paintings (oils) that juxtapose a bird, a pair of field glasses and a window. These new pieces allow me to call upon my love for painting in a more abstract fashion, yet also demand I draw! Fun. I, like Carol, love birds hence I am searching for away to transfer this interest to canvas. I can observe the natural world from my studio windows as it opens up on two city parks in Bozeman.