May 2024 Poetry

Photos of Clouds Over-Spanish Peaks by Anthony Botelho, a SIEA member
Dare To

Sing when the world is sorry
play when the worries crowd in
jump when the rewards are over our heads
clap when our efforts keep coming
hoot when the naysayers yell the loudest
dance even when the music stops
breathe when the air grows thin
speak your mind when your thought is needed
live while the chance continues
and never forget the wonder and joy
even the pain
from all those years
that made us
who we are.

Carol H. Ehrlich, Grand Lake Mountain Parks Electric member


Sabbath Road

Clearly the trees grew here first,
reflections of sunlight like votive candles,
burning in a synthesized fashion,
growing taller instead of melting,
cooling into groves of scented shade
until light dims and dark invades.
Today along these narrow dirt roads
I hiked for miles through a maze
of Ponderosa pines, as if loosed
into a needled cathedral, spires
broadcasting birdsong the whole way
back to where my trail started.
What I also saw were trees banded
by rings of orange paint like the flare
of matches once struck, still smoldering
with a harvester’s intent. Oh holy day,
when the loggers stay silent
and the trees sway.

David Feela, Cortez Empire Electric Association member


Rushing Water

As I sit in the Rye Park, I can hear the rushing
water rushing in the creek nearby.
The mountain runoff is filling the creeks with
a loud roar of water.
I’m looking forward to a summer without
drought, no forest fires, or fire bans.
Is there any sweeter sound then the sound of
rushing water?
I miss my days at Camp Jackson and falling
asleep to the sound of rushing water as I
slept with my cabin windows open.
Makes me wish I could fall asleep to the
sound of rushing water each night.

Amy Manning, Colorado City San Isabel Electric member


A Path Through the Woods

What is so pleasant as a path in the woods
That winds and meanders through the trees?
A track across an open field is straight;
The woodland trail is gently curved.
It keeps us from the tangled thorns
That try to trap us with their hooks,
Pulling us in with no escape
From the dense underbrush beneath the trees.
Nor do we have to creep and crawl
Over the deadfall limbs and branches
That wait within the woods itself
To trip us up, stumbling to our knees.
A woodland trail holds mystery;
We cannot see beyond the bend.
Sometimes it tunnels to a vanishing point
With solemn branches arching overhead.
Here there awaits no enmity;
Anxiety recedes along this trail,
But best of all it harbors hope,
An Eden promise that we will emerge.

Glenda VandenBosch, Lake City Gunnison County Electric member


Time

The days pass so quickly now
and time just seems to fly
it’s as though you are in a hurry
to meet the day you die
now thoughts like this
would never be
when I was young and “fancy free”
but as I’ve aged
I know too well
how long you live
only time will tell

William Lee, Clifton Grand Valley Power member


Final Mile

Oh dusty road, oh timeless friend,
quiet repose til labor’s end;
then sounds your country lullaby,
’gainst rolling hill and western sky.
’Midst antelope and golden plain,
your soft melodious refrain;
as tires bounce and gravel flies,
beneath these Colorado skies.
’Tis traveled well, your barren span,
by neighbor and by highwayman;
and each dawn I depart and then,
at dusk you lead me home again.
To running feet and open arms,
to laughter sweet and precious smile;
so take me home, oh dusty friend;
take me another final mile.

Daniel Dean Swanson, Calhan Mountain View Electric Association member


Quiet Morning

Botanicals in the forest twinkling from
their posts
Welcoming me with their enchanted dance
and competing for my loving glance
Never a care in the world but there to
“Just Be” and sunny
Unruffled moments — savoring their friendship
in a day of so many
The delicate breeze of lavender soothes and
quietly speaks my name
Everything will be all right she says – however
unsure of how this can be attained
My sunrise cup is cold and nearly hollow —
should I retreat to have another?
Internal heart says to wait until dawn — for
then my cherished foliage will invite me to
stroll with them tomorrow

Anne-Marie Scro, Black Forest Mountain View Electric Association member