Rock Chuck

Squeezed between rock and earth and root
marmots, (five months of fat
padding our bones) seep
into sleep like old secrets.

We dream of sun and shoot and bud
dream the hawk over other hills
dream eagles after geese; rolled in
each others armpits, noses cozy with fur.

Mole and vole and squirrel scoot
our periphery, using what heat we waste.
Their haste to bring winter’s end
doesn’t disturb; there’s four more

months to snooze. I roll into my neighbor,
scratch an ear, still in dream;
I will wake in spring a smaller shadow.

Near Wasco

Three paint horses
in the stubble field

disappear around
the canyon’s curve

new snow can’t mute
the crow’s call

the sky here holds
twice as many stars

as are seen through
the pines

so many, they seem to drown you.