Kevin Wayne Zerbe is a writer, photographer, and ecologist. His work is the welcomed burden of flowing water, cold hands, conservator of natal streams. His dedication to the conservation of natural resources informs all he does. The bodies of he and his wife are lost now in a megalopolis, but their souls roam the hidden valleys of the Northern Rockies.
OXBLOOD
Ox’s blood on my boots is stainin em.
Hair on the ground just
thin strands,
like straw.
Steel wire.
That dog’s barkin agin.
Lost in them hills.
White dog,
can’t find hisself in white snow.
His nose don’t work.
Snow been maskin my scent.
Wind been mufflin my whistlin.
He’ll catch the smell of meat,
that I’m sure of.
I’ll cook,
and he’ll come on home.