Today and Tomorrow and Tomorrow . . .

Irene Keller

April 21, 2024

Soap-bubbled water swirls with a force 

that pulls grime from faded jeans; clear

water rinses the thinning strong threads

so ready again to fit perfect the cowgirl 

Wearing cleaned jeans, she travels across

her land of deep cracks, of dry creek beds

she lies on the ground, stares deep into the

pale sky, makes dust angels a plea for rain 

She finds shade with her two sorrel friends

watches birds with singed failing wing tips 

try to stand on a searing water trough edge 

where colorless butterfly wings have dried

Close to her home, traveled black asphalt

smells like burning rubber with no flames

choking earth’s breath, destroying its gifts 

of plenty for the ranch owner and beyond

Nearby city commuters inhale noxious air

urban parks have no children jumping for

floating balloons, no lovers strolling hand                     

in hand, no joggers gliding through nature

On the open dried range, the adrift mother   

located, her nose not close to morning hay 

rather nudging her still born calf, sickened 

cowgirl: knees buckle, angst face in hands

Soapy water swirls once again to wash out 

embedded dust from torn jeans, giving the

cowgirl a scent of fresh rain for tomorrow

yet realizes the sour promise of false hope

Ponders, Some say the world will end in fire 

as she feels the shameless scorching of earth  

that will continue into the night without stars

and the glow of the moon can no longer cool

Irene Keller lives in New Braunfels, Texas. She has had a long, sincere relationship with poetry. Currently, she is a poet who is concerned about the devastating effects of continuously rising temperatures.