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Wyoming is Like No Other Place on Earth: Poems

Updated on December 10, 2016


Upper Falls of Yellowstone
Upper Falls of Yellowstone | Source
Yellowstone Geysers
Yellowstone Geysers | Source
Yellowstone Bison
Yellowstone Bison | Source

Wyoming Poems

Riverside Geyser in Yellowstone

Deep rumbles are overheard

above the flow of Firehole River;

puffs of steam with water

splash over the side,

and then quiet and calm

until nauseous bursts of

steaming water roil forth

and a great cloud of

spewing steam reaches

the sky with its own

trail of fallout dropping back

on the river like an

old-time river steamboat

chugging up the wide Missouri.

Along the Yellowstone River

The Yellowstone gently

flows with swirling eddies

smooth as clear brownish ice,

looking as though Hansel

and Gretel had whirled

there on fairy-tale skates.

But wait, now the river twists

through valleys of bison

and gray-green sagebrush

at a much faster rate.

If you listen closely, you can

hear thundering waterfalls

only miles ahead where the

river plunges three hundred feet

as liberated spirit vapors

in streaks of white and green.

Yellowstone Evening

Wispy burnt pines line

severely darkened ridges

sixteen years after the fire

when flames leapt to stars

generating their own weather.

But none of that now--

just green tongues of saplings

spreading much like flames

in the light of quarter moon.

Cottonwood Moon

As we read aloud some Indian poetry

around a smoking fire high

on western short-grass prairies,

an eerie light gleams through

extended branches of cottonwoods

lighting up the bark-like flesh,

and rustling leaves rattle like gourds

of some giant dancer brightly illumed

with moon of cottonwood numbing

our spirits into total submission.

We merge with xylem and phloem

to rise within our fibers

out to leafy branches

swaying to greet the stars.

Wyoming Spring

Green buds tip sagebrush

scenting canyon's sunny side

across from lingering snow

where wild, twisted pines grow

giving voice to thrusts of wind

making alleluias inside seem tame,

and then a white and wrinkled moon

appears at horizon's edge

looking as barren as prairie

far below except for its green tinge.

Wyoming Clouds

Clouds, clouds, clouds--

slowly said out loud.

Clouds shed rain

Clouds drop sleet

Clouds shed snow

Clouds drop hail.

Clouds become grayer

than glacial-stream water,

but then they can change

to fluffy white cotton balls.

Clouds take shape into

horsehair and snakes

and dragons and ghosts--

Bright clouds form into futuristic

visions, but misty clouds conceal

our deepest concerns, or at very

least they make us yearn until

they suddenly rattle with lightning

awakening us from our dreams,

to dream of newer worlds to come.

Homesick for Wyoming

Somehow I feel so terribly homesick

driving, years later, along an interstate,

roaming southward through Wyoming

towards Cheyenne through Chugwater.

The Laramie Range is veiled in cloud,

and strands of fog spread out prairie-wide

with pungent scent of sagebrush in early

June. I remember staying at an old log

ranch-house with a crackling wood fire

and drinking steaming cowboy-strong coffee.

And all night long I hear yipping and howling

coyotes under a rising, cloudy moon.


Have you ever visited Wyoming?

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© 2015 Richard Francis Fleck


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    • juneaukid profile image

      Richard Francis Fleck 2 years ago from Denver, Colorado

      Thanks again Gypsy Rose Lee--I appreciate your poetic support.

    • Gypsy Rose Lee profile image

      Gypsy Rose Lee 2 years ago from Riga, Latvia

      So lovely. Voted up and awesome. Pearled these. Thanks you for sharing. Love the pictures.