The Road To Llano

Our home in New Mexico is located in a fertile valley which used to be a swamp area 100 years ago. Thanks to over forestation and global warming, we are able to live in what I believe is one of the most spectacular places on earth. I wrote this poem when I was snow shoeing up the hillside in March. The Taos Horsefly, a left wing local rag, was planning to publish it in the June issue. Then they decided to discontinue the poetry section due to "the paper shrinking".

Road to Llano

Foraging the coyote trail to Llano
my boots sink into deep snow, thigh-deep.
Winter skies pale against translucent snow.

The pine leaves drop tiny blessings
like wishes or holy water,
they transform into dew as I hike.

An icy paw print
then bloody rib cage
leads to the half eaten beast.

I gasp
a hoof, then a gnarled furry leg
a horse’s head is frozen in ice.

Who could do this
Who could do this
Who could do this

My body is still with sadness
softness of quiet snow buffers my heartbeat
there is no witness to this outrage.

I will bridle you with golden rope
we will fly like winged conquistadors
above frozen hayfields

And when we glide far beyond
trout rivers and raspberry banks
we will sing

the broken song of the crow.
Wildly galloping through air
our bodies will become whole again.

Christine Wagner

Christine Wagner lives part time in Llano Largo near Penasco. She dreams of life there year round with an array of farm animals and fruit trees.