Scarlet scabs
Where embers scorched away fur,
Blistered paws
From the last rush through flames,
An eye burned white,
Staring at nothing,
You stand below Sheep Creek.
Among boulders snowbound
By moonlight.
You lift your muzzle,
Snuff ice on the wind,
But no smoke.
Then – shoulders rippling
Like swift, black water –
You plunge
Into pools of shadow.
This poem first appeared in the Tiny Seed Literary Journal (2020).
—
Robert Walton is a retired middle school teacher, classical musician, rock climber and mountaineer with ascents in Yosemite and Pinnacles National Park. Walton is an experienced writer. His novel Dawn Drums won the 2014 New Mexico Book Awards Tony Hillerman Prize for Best Fiction. Most recently, Joaquin’s Gold, a collection of his Joaquin Murrieta tales, became available on Amazon. chaosgatebook.wordpress.com/
