Monday, February 28, 2011

March 1, 2011

My wife grew up on a ranch in western Montana.  Aside from brother and sister her playmates were working farm animals - cats, dogs, and horses and occasionally a neighbor or cousin.  The following poem is about her retired work horse named Mary:


The horse’s name was Mary
She served many a child before
She knew she could carry
Four kids and maybe more

It was a life of leisure
For the old work horse
Baby sitting a pleasure
She could stay the course

She stood for many hours
As the children ran about
Her mane adorned with flowers
She was a beautiful mount

Her mouth never knew a bit
Never a saddle on her back
On her back four children fit
Saddle bags were gunny sacks

Sometimes she was a circus horse
Sometimes she ran a race
She could do all these things, of course
By standing in one place

The children loved old Mary
And Mary loved them back
She was always proud to carry
Four rascals and a gunny sack

February 28, 2011

February was sure a long month for being so short. I welcome March. March brings with it the promise of spring. Soon the sights and sounds of a spring prairie will be in the air.

A March Wind

A March wind is at my back
There is a chill in the air
Dust blows across the track
The prairie is dry and bare

A March wind from the east
Stirs winter's dead debris
On winter's dust the wind will feast
Blowing fiercely through the trees

A March wind is tireless
Carrying a promise of spring to come
The prairie wind is timeless
And as sure as the setting sun

A March wind sings of spring
It howls through the night
Permeating every crack and seam
Dying with a whimper at daylight

Copyright March 12, 2008 by Terry Sutherland

Sunday, February 27, 2011

February 27, 2011

The photo is of my 92 year old father standing in front of the prairie country school he attended some 85 years before.  The school was located about a mile from their farm house (as the crow flies).  They prompted this poem about a country school marm.


Amaryllis taught country school
Amidst fields of golden grain
Perched high on a drafting stool
She taught all eight of the grades

Her spectacles hung on a chain
She wore around her neck
She peered through them with disdain
When a student she kept in check

Her posture was always proper straight
She walked with grace and dignity
Always on time; she was never late
She never encouraged a calamity

Amaryllis died an old maid
She taught fifty years from her stool
On the grave stone where she’s laid
Is written: “She Followed the Golden Rule”

Saturday, February 26, 2011

February 26, 2011

The eastern slope of the Rockies and the blooming Montana prairie in June 2010.  I can hardly wait for spring on the Montana Prairie.  Just think - only four more months to go.

February 26, 2011

The temperature is 3 degrees F.  A good day to stay inside and play cards:


It was morning when he left that night
I think the month was May
They drank until broad daylight
With one last game to play
The cards were on the table
He had spades in his hand
He waited until the mood was stable
Then he executed his plan
Big Joe stared at the poker face
That Dan wore with pride
Joe arched his back in defiant grace
Dan took it all in stride
Joe said, with a face so blank,
“Are there hearts in your hand?”
Dan organized his cards by rank;
Said, “With this hand I’ll stand”
Joe, said again, ready to fight
“Are there hearts in your hand?”
Dan held his cards to the light;
“Go fish,” he said, “or throw in your hand”

Saturday, February 26, 2011


On a fine summer day
In a land far away
A gumdrop galleon
Set sail on a chocolate sea
Its rice paper sails
Caught nor’easter gales
And followed a course due east
It finally moored
In an icy fjord
Surrounded with frothy whipped cream
The ship’s captain was adorned
With a gingerbread horn
And white britches that were double seamed
He left his great ship
And took a short trip
To see his majesty the king
The king met the captain and crew
Served them peppermint stew
And a desert of peppered ice cream
Their visit was done
At a quarter past one
Just in time for crumpets and tea
Then with the setting sun
Their next trip was begun
To the land of the lemon drop tree