Arts & Culture
Olivia hikes by.Some follow, others cry.She lured usUpward, oh so high. Climbing chertShe scales the cirque.Quads afireWe all kick higher.Off the topShe does her hop.A cadenced thing,She floats, she swings. Read more >>
Step outsideIt’s still and coldThe mountains shineLike burnished goldAll aroundThe silence ringsYou feel the powerThat wildness bringsThis is the worldAs it was madeThis crystal snowThat virgin gladeHigh overhead Read more >>
I am instinctivelyAddicted to fishing,Innately I confess. With amigoed muskateersPescatelled in thoughtlessWaders deeply riffled Read more >>
This folk rhyme was written in 17th-century England by an unknown agitator; in light of recent efforts to privatize wildlife and our priceless public landscapes, its message rings just as true today. —THE EDITORS Read more >>
Snow gods forgive meFor I have lustedAfter your supple powdery pillowsKnow that I have partedYour perfect driftsWith skis unwaxedAnd my edges grippeth notFor I have failed to file them.Gods lead me notInto total gearheadedness Read more >>
The ancient ritual is unknown to all but a chosen few,the strong, the bold, and the exceedingly bravewho tempt fate upon the frozen wasteswhere death awaitsin a final, terrible, dead-frozen grave. Read more >>
there once was a cowboy named Stuwho traded his horse (as you do)when the big sky was tamedhe couldn’t be blamedfor riding a red Subaru Read more >>
Fall. Frosts at night.Days, unseasonable warmth suffuses willow,aspens, brush: saffron, ocher, gold.Foothills loom and swarm, scat steams.And in the high school, kids on cellsare joined by tall, black, pungent, furry,wandering a hallway, disoriented, Read more >>
I pregnacy test1,000 mother cows under a warm, sweet wind.Spilt milk clouds.Green grass in November.Ring-tailed hawks perch over the emptiness on thecottonwoods of Little McGinnis Creek, waiting fordeath that will not come. Read more >>
Caddisflies in my ears and up my nose,Caddisflies riding the brim of my hat.Inside my waders and inside my clothes,Trichoptera stuck to my hemostat. Read more >>
The essence of springcan be found in giant willowswhose roots seek depthsof sweet-scented earthto siphon water from subterranean streamsquickeningtheir leafy embrace of the moon. Read more >>
Seasons continue to changeBut does she remain the same?Though winter becomes warmerShe finds herself colderThe wind wanders west Read more >>
silhouettes of rugged rangedevoid of depth wild with changeblackened ridge in sharp reliefgrand clear dusk, contrast so brief drama framing home’s commutewestward lies my normal routeshadows grow beyond immensemountains meld with sky pretense Read more >>
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