Southwestern June

By Charles Badger Clark

Lazy little hawse, it’s noon
And we’ve wasted saddle leather,
But the mornin’s slip so soon
When we drift around together
In this lazy, shinin’ weather,
Sunny, easy-goin’ June.

Who kin study shamblin’ herds,
How they calve or die or wander,
When the bridegroom mockin’-birds,
Singin’ here and there and yonder,
Trill that June’s too bright to ponder
And life’s just too fine for words!

Down the desert’s hazy blue
See the tall gray whirlwinds farin’,
Slow, contented sort of crew
Trailin’ ‘cross the sunny barren,
Headed nowhere and not carin’
Just the same as me and you.

From a world of unfenced room
Just a breath of breeze is strayin’,
Triflin’ with the yucca bloom
Till its waxy bells are swayin’,
On my cheek warm kisses layin’
Soft as touch of ostrich plume.

When the July lightnin’ gleams
This brown range will start to workin’,
Hills be green and tricklin’ streams
Down each deep arroyo lurkin’;
Now the sleepy land is shirkin’,
Drowzin’, smilin’ in her dreams.

Steppin’ little hawse, it’s noon.
Turquoise blue the far hills glimmer;
“Sun—sun—sun,” the mockers croon
Where the yellow range lands shimmer,
And our sparklin’ spirits simmer
For we’re young yet, and it’s June!

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