Springtime on the Caprock
A poem by Billy Gilbreath
No flower or prairie dogs to tell us
Often the days or hot and next cold
I see that the cotton rows are beginning
Wondering, how those rows are so perfect?
Knowing that spring is near, soon summer
Yes, at last and the last one to sprout
Those tough and some say useless, Mesquite.
Perhaps those in this modern millennia age,
Will remember those from years past
No more frost, freeze as they are out.
Remembering in the fall and migration
Wondering if those on that long trip
Would have a pleasant winter and return
Looking above the front entrance, gladly
They are there, she on that mud-built nest
In and out he flies in and out with food
Nightly perched on the ledge, protecting,
Like an anxious father, I wait the hatching.
Are these the same who migrated earlier?
This day and with sadness, I remember those
Friends, who migrated to their new home,
No Mesquite to remind them of spring,
Me thinks: It is always spring- time there.
Now on the Caprock, and spring has arrived,
So thankful to be able to see and enjoy,
Spring is here says ”The Useless Mesquite.”
......................................................
FOR MIL'S PLACE
By: Guest Writer, Billy Gilbreath, May 12, 2019
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