Paint & Poetry

To A Pronghorn
by Al Nyhart

Fast.
That’s what I’m seeing
as you race across the basin
& into the Crazies.

But not as agile
as your cousin whitetail
leaping gracefully
over the barbed wire

while you struggle,
running madly
back & forth
back & forth

beside the fence
until you find an opening
large enough
to slip through.

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Quaky Trees
by H. G. Moser

I wonder if the
individual trees
in an Aspen grove
know they are
each other

---

Last Leaf
by H. G. Moser

Last leaf
bounces softly
reticent
in the breeze
brethren
without choice
trampled in the snow.