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Poetry Poems from “The Bell”
Poetry Poems from “The Bell” Author(s): Mattie Ellis Source: Rangelands, 30(5):46-46. Published By: Society for Range Management DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.2111/1551-501X(2008)30[46:PPFTB]2.0.CO;2 URL: http://www.bioone.org/doi/full/10.2111/1551-501X%282008%2930%5B46%3APPFTB %5D2.0.CO%3B2
BioOne (www.bioone.org) is a nonprofit, online aggregation of core research in the biological, ecological, and environmental sciences. BioOne provides a sustainable online platform for over 170 journals and books published by nonprofit societies, associations, museums, institutions, and presses. Your use of this PDF, the BioOne Web site, and all posted and associated content indicates your acceptance of BioOne’s Terms of Use, available at www.bioone.org/page/terms_of_use. Usage of BioOne content is strictly limited to personal, educational, and non-commercial use. Commercial inquiries or rights and permissions requests should be directed to the individual publisher as copyright holder.
BioOne sees sustainable scholarly publishing as an inherently collaborative enterprise connecting authors, nonprofit publishers, academic institutions, research libraries, and research funders in the common goal of maximizing access to critical research.
Poetry Poems from “The Bell” Mattie Ellis lived on New Mexico’s legendary Bell Ranch (www.thebellranch.com) for twenty-seven years with her husband George, the fifth manager (since 1875) of this sprawling 390-square-mile property in eastern New Mexico. A perceptive observer of working rangelands, her out-of-print poems speak to never-ending cycles of rain and drought, hope and disappointment, duress and renewal familiar on rangelands worldwide. In 1953 Through all the hot and windy days of June We rode the dusty pastures, Watching the waterholes Along the drying creeks; Watching the thunderheads pile up Each sunny afternoon, Raising our hopes for needed rain. Watching the red dust rise and go Sweeping out of the dry creek beds; Hearing once again the wind That blows away both cloud and hope. October in Drouth October’s days are blue and fair. I think that we have never Loved them more than now. All the burning summer long We watched the faithless, Promising clouds, The vanishing grass, The drying water, And said each disappointing time, “Maybe tomorrow…”
Late, late rains have fallen, And all the countryside is green. The grama grass knows That tomorrow, or even tonight, The frost may come. On slender, fragile stems, Scarce three inches high, Its purple flags are waving With seed for a better year to come. Rain After Drouth A cloud came by today Pouring water unbelievable Over all this dry and dusty land. The borrow-pits are running full, The rocks and trees are dripping wet, And on the Flat below the Hill A sheet of shining water goes Hurrying down the draw. The creek is coming up, The air is sweet and cool and clean; A rainbow shines on Gavilan, And soon the frogs will all be singing Songs our grateful hearts repeat. —By Mattie Ellis Compiled by “English Majors on the Range,” Jim Thorpe and Bob Welling, charter members. Poems by permission of the Ellis family.
Now the last tomorrow is gone. Grass wouldn’t make Even if it did rain. Gone, too, the waiting and the worry. Time now to cut the cows To fit the grass. Shoe the horses. Ready the wagon. Order the trucks. 1954 The brown and bitter summer has gone, And early autumn, too.
46
Photo courtesy of Bell Ranch.
Rangelands
BioOne (www.bioone.org) is a nonprofit, online aggregation of core research in the biological, ecological, and environmental sciences. BioOne provides a sustainable online platform for over 170 journals and books published by nonprofit societies, associations, museums, institutions, and presses. Your use of this PDF, the BioOne Web site, and all posted and associated content indicates your acceptance of BioOne’s Terms of Use, available at www.bioone.org/page/terms_of_use. Usage of BioOne content is strictly limited to personal, educational, and non-commercial use. Commercial inquiries or rights and permissions requests should be directed to the individual publisher as copyright holder.
BioOne sees sustainable scholarly publishing as an inherently collaborative enterprise connecting authors, nonprofit publishers, academic institutions, research libraries, and research funders in the common goal of maximizing access to critical research.
Poetry Poems from “The Bell” Mattie Ellis lived on New Mexico’s legendary Bell Ranch (www.thebellranch.com) for twenty-seven years with her husband George, the fifth manager (since 1875) of this sprawling 390-square-mile property in eastern New Mexico. A perceptive observer of working rangelands, her out-of-print poems speak to never-ending cycles of rain and drought, hope and disappointment, duress and renewal familiar on rangelands worldwide. In 1953 Through all the hot and windy days of June We rode the dusty pastures, Watching the waterholes Along the drying creeks; Watching the thunderheads pile up Each sunny afternoon, Raising our hopes for needed rain. Watching the red dust rise and go Sweeping out of the dry creek beds; Hearing once again the wind That blows away both cloud and hope. October in Drouth October’s days are blue and fair. I think that we have never Loved them more than now. All the burning summer long We watched the faithless, Promising clouds, The vanishing grass, The drying water, And said each disappointing time, “Maybe tomorrow…”
Late, late rains have fallen, And all the countryside is green. The grama grass knows That tomorrow, or even tonight, The frost may come. On slender, fragile stems, Scarce three inches high, Its purple flags are waving With seed for a better year to come. Rain After Drouth A cloud came by today Pouring water unbelievable Over all this dry and dusty land. The borrow-pits are running full, The rocks and trees are dripping wet, And on the Flat below the Hill A sheet of shining water goes Hurrying down the draw. The creek is coming up, The air is sweet and cool and clean; A rainbow shines on Gavilan, And soon the frogs will all be singing Songs our grateful hearts repeat. —By Mattie Ellis Compiled by “English Majors on the Range,” Jim Thorpe and Bob Welling, charter members. Poems by permission of the Ellis family.
Now the last tomorrow is gone. Grass wouldn’t make Even if it did rain. Gone, too, the waiting and the worry. Time now to cut the cows To fit the grass. Shoe the horses. Ready the wagon. Order the trucks. 1954 The brown and bitter summer has gone, And early autumn, too.
46
Photo courtesy of Bell Ranch.
Rangelands