Panoche Hills
Situated in the rain shadow
Of the higher Coastal Range,
Slow and deliberate in rising,
The Panoche Hills,
On the bitter Eastern edge
Of the jagged Diablo Range
Impounding Little Panoche Valley,
Mercey Hot Springs, former site
Of a Native American village.
Before a vast lattice-work
Of irrigated, geometric farming
Grown east to the Sierra foothills.
Lavender, yellow Mariposa lilies,
Golden poppies, salt brush,
Fiddlenecks, pepper the hills.
A green mantel of grasses
Disguise the rolling curves,
Contours of unadorned beauty.
Llanada, in Bitterwater Canyon,
Winds move over the ridge,
Fences lean in that direction.
Remnants of ancient seabed
Exposes itself in gullies,
The first tentative folds.
Narrow trails over alkaline
Are soils worn deep by cattle
Older, wilder in character.
Profound is the quiet,
Swallowed by the vastness.
Silent terrain of endurance,
Relative isolation, open-ground,
A wide sky, and a constant winds
Meander the canyons and hills.
Sunset is a swathe of darkness
Drawn over the Griswold Hills.
Evidence of the persistent slope,
Radiant in an unambiguous green.
A glow that lingers like a mist
Until the early morning light.
Stephen Barile is an award-winning poet from Fresno, California, and a Pushcart Prize nominee. He attended Fresno City College, Fresno Pacific University, and California State University, Fresno. His poems have been anthologized, and published in numerous journals, both in print and on-line. He taught writing at Madera College, and CSU Fresno. (50 words)
Situated in the rain shadow
Of the higher Coastal Range,
Slow and deliberate in rising,
The Panoche Hills,
On the bitter Eastern edge
Of the jagged Diablo Range
Impounding Little Panoche Valley,
Mercey Hot Springs, former site
Of a Native American village.
Before a vast lattice-work
Of irrigated, geometric farming
Grown east to the Sierra foothills.
Lavender, yellow Mariposa lilies,
Golden poppies, salt brush,
Fiddlenecks, pepper the hills.
A green mantel of grasses
Disguise the rolling curves,
Contours of unadorned beauty.
Llanada, in Bitterwater Canyon,
Winds move over the ridge,
Fences lean in that direction.
Remnants of ancient seabed
Exposes itself in gullies,
The first tentative folds.
Narrow trails over alkaline
Are soils worn deep by cattle
Older, wilder in character.
Profound is the quiet,
Swallowed by the vastness.
Silent terrain of endurance,
Relative isolation, open-ground,
A wide sky, and a constant winds
Meander the canyons and hills.
Sunset is a swathe of darkness
Drawn over the Griswold Hills.
Evidence of the persistent slope,
Radiant in an unambiguous green.
A glow that lingers like a mist
Until the early morning light.
Stephen Barile is an award-winning poet from Fresno, California, and a Pushcart Prize nominee. He attended Fresno City College, Fresno Pacific University, and California State University, Fresno. His poems have been anthologized, and published in numerous journals, both in print and on-line. He taught writing at Madera College, and CSU Fresno. (50 words)
