On the Ranch
By Julian Denney
On the Ranch
Every happening is between you and the wind outside the windows.
What happens there stays, the furthest edge from human drove—
Rife with tales of the raccoon kits, the chickens, and the minnows.
And as you sit there, in an isolated grove,
You realize every person prior knew:
It’s a peaceful life, the mountains echoing screams back to you,
When you’re the only one left to know what’s true,
When only rustling leaves are there to bid your death adieu.
In the Window Well
In the hot summer months, I found you;
Wedged in the window well.
I wonder if your mom heard you yell,
Wonder if she knew.
I wonder if she tried to help you get free,
If she knew it would be the last time to see her baby.
I hope you died in peace, dreaming of chasing birds
And attending to each of the cattle herds.
I hope you died comfortable and quick,
And I hope in your next life, you’re free from the confines of window and brick.
Irish
I’m so sorry sweet baby,
For leaving you behind.
You were so kind,
Never knew there was no “maybe.”
I tried to find a way to bring you with,
My baby Irish,
But we left in such a rush.
I know he was cruel,
Didn’t know you were scared of the lightning and the thrush.
He didn’t care for your hate of the cold,
From when you were lost in days old.
He didn’t care that you missed me,
And so I hope when you broke free,
That you felt joy at the prospect of reuniting.
I hope that the run was exciting,
And that you were content when the wolves found you before I.
River Rocks
We stood on the stream’s edge,
Shaking the dog crate.
Knowing your mom's fate,
Before you could even fledge.
I heard you cry under the weight
Of the rocks tumbling atop you,
I heard the rush of the water and slate
As they both fought to subdue.
I dully wondered,
As your cries faded to none,
Why was everyone laughing,
And why couldn’t we just use a gun?
Still Born
It was early January,
Barn still cold and airy.
And in the late night
Your head hit the floor.
You had no might,
And you never stirred.
Your skull was soft,
You never drew a breath,
And from the hayloft,
The mice saw your death.
The Bird Coop
I’m sorry I forgot your name,
My beautiful blue-black bird.
I’m sorry your cries were unheard,
And I know I’m to blame.
I saw the feathers before the sun had risen,
I saw the blood dot the snow,
Saw it gleam and glisten.
I saw the bodies litter the floor of your prison,
The coop that was once warm and bright,
Now a shell of its old condition.
I still don't blame them, nor their natural plight,
I don’t blame the cold of the night,
For I know we must all eat,
And I know that I’m the one to indict.
I know I forgot to secure the lock,
And I saw the hole in the fence.
I know I’m guilty for my own shock
And I’m sorry it was at your expense.