(In memory of Oscar Norris who was my friend when I needed a friend, who taught me how to sharpen a knife, who taught me how to carve a chain out of wood, who taught me how to catch and clean a trout…)

by Emmie Domschot

There were horses running wild

and thunder in the sky

The day that Billy died.

Lightening flashed east to east

and broke the morning light.

The desert ran water in dry ditches

and floods over stony ground.

Billy said it would be that way.

His momma told him he was born

without a whisper or sound

And, by God, he’d have to redeem himself

on the way out.

It was time someone in the family

stood for something more than cheap beer

and broke down pickup trucks.

So it was that thunder ripped the sky

The day that Billy died.

Streams in the Desert by A. Leon Miler