Friday, September 22, 2006

Porcupine Hills

Sharp razorback of the last ridge
cuts up
through the last of last night's
first deep cutting frost
to where a morning's weaker sun
barely begins to warm walls
of a weathering skid shack
just left by herders one day
still-bright gas company calendar
nailed to waterblackened pine
stopped at September, 1949,
rotting brown boots neatly lined
beside a gaping leatherhinged door
facing across a wool grass clearing
a skeltered balled bald eagle's nest
where two big birds, sharp eyed
wary but sure of their territory
circle low in sharp clear air
and watch.


Day Dreamer said...

Places like this dot Montana.

coyote said...

And further north... but yes, I could as easily have written this near Wolf Creek, any fall.