Curled by desert heat, wooden shingles roof a cabin of unpeeled logs. Narrow porch missing scruffy cowpokes. Hard-packed dirt, swept clean by early morning thunderstorms. In weathered ruts cut deep, a buckboard awaits its driver and harnessed team. Black and gray burros gather, long ears alert. Tourists wander through piñon, juniper, and sage, drawn by stories of eastern dudes, real cowboys, tiny dinosaurs, changing light, and one artist.
bones, cliffs, the moon, and Pedernal
here O’Keeffe lives
Mary Whiteside grew up in the Appalachian foothills, but now calls Texas home. Never without a notebook, she enjoys writing about rural areas. Short fiction and haibun captivate her imagination. Her writing has been included in Keeping Time: 150 Years of Journal Writing, Contemporary Haibun Online, and Forces Literary Journal.
2 thoughts on “#35 Ghost Ranch by Mary Whiteside”
Hi Mary, Enjoyed reading your poem in Belen yesterday! I, too, have a fondness for Ghost Ranch! Did you by any chance have relatives living in Black Mountain, NC? Thanks, Kayce Verde
Thanks very much. My Whiteside relatives are from Alabama.