July 2023 Poetry


The Song of the Wren 

The song of the canyon wren 

A simple trill without a lot of melody 

A downwardly progressing scale 

Maybe a half note of separation per tone 

Starting at a high E and ending near C 

Originating from a simple, plain bird 

Small, gray and not at all showy 

If not seen in context would be completely overlooked 

Without that context unrecognizable 

Yet it and its song are most beautiful 

For it is that context that gives it an indescribable air 

Its song is of place and its place in life 

Times it is heard are the most wonderful 

Walking still in the canyons red and soaring 

Pausing to rest, recharge, absorb 

Casting a line in the calm of the morning 

Anticipating the strike 

Gazing at ancient art pecked or painted 

Wondering if the artist heard the same tune 

Balance beaming a petrified cypress trunk 

Whose branches were a perch for an ancestor 

Following the tracks of a Jurassic Leviton 

Who might have paused and turned at a sound 

Contrasted against the babbling of the stream 

Or the sound of quaking Sycamore leaves 

It is of the context that the song takes on the grandeur 

Grandeur of place, time and life itself 

Sharing the grandeur of these moments is the greatest gift 

A life is no more than this song without context 

Context of people, place, love, growing and sharing 

Dennis Gorsett, Grand Junction 
Grand Valley Power consumer-member 


Colorado on My Mind 

Going down to the San Luis, the devil can’t find me there 

I’ll jump off Crestone mountain and vanish in the air 

Hard times are forgotten, the past is yet to come 

There’s gold in the creek bed, and I’m gonna get me some 

Colorado’s always on my mind, there’s a rocky mountain where the sun will always shine 

Dreams and schemes and old blue jeans fade away in time, but Colorado’s always on my mind 

A fiery eyed white Bison is coming after me 

To lead me to the river and sail down to the sea 

A hundred spotted ponies are calling me to ride 

Across a painted valley with Ouray by my side 

Colorado’s always on my mind, there’s a rocky mountain where the sun will always shine 

Dreams and schemes and old blue jeans fade away in time, but Colorado’s always on my mind 

Boogie Lewis, Nathrop 
SDCEA consumer-member 

What Kind of World 

What kind of world 

will we leave behind 

what kind of world 

will my great grandchild find 

the way it is going now 

it is not looking great 

there is too much violence 

there is too much hate 

I miss the days 

of peace and good will 

but we as Americans 

can achieve that still. 

it will take everyone 

come one and come all 

for “united we stand 

and divided we fall” 

so what kind of world 

will it be 

what kind of world 

will she see. 

William Lee, Clifton 
Grand Valley Power consumer-member 


The Bucket List 

A lot of folks, so I’ve been told, 

Make bucket lists as they grow old — 

Lists of things they’d like to do 

Or places they might yet go — 

A parachute jump, perhaps, or a first-time rodeo; 

Shadowy thoughts of things avowed. 

Things and places, wistful tomorrows 

Teasing our minds with grander things, 

Things not always said aloud. 

But there they are: persistent, 

Tantalizing dreams of uncommon allure; 

Shadowy thoughts of things avowed. 

I have my list of course; it’s short and simple, 

As are my years by now. 

But what I’ve done and where I’ve been 

I would not wish for more. 

But should I pass this way again 

I’ll check my bucket now and then, 

And hope to find it empty at the end; 

Shadowy thoughts of things avowed. 

James Mariner, Louisville 
SDCEA consumer-member 


Written for a Cowboy Poetry Event 

If you’re losing weight, 

At a rapid rate, 

It’s best you wear a belt. 

I was in town, 

And my pants fell down, 

That’s the weirdest I ever felt. 

So I straightened my stance, 

And pulled up my pants, 

And hopped up on my horse. 

I rode off at a pace, 

With red on my face, 

And never went back there, of course. 

Tim Menger, Unaweep Canyon 
Grand Valley Power consumer-member