Ode to Cheat Grass

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Cheat Grass,

Downy Brome,

Bromus tectorum,

Wretched Fiend.

You have many names,

and have taken many lands.

 

When a band of horses turns the earth,

when a herd of cattle lingers at water,

when a fire sweeps through the sagebrush,

in the bare earth

you spring up

first and foremost,

claiming every inch of space,

cutting in line,

and unwilling to share.

 

You are the earliest bird

who gets the worm,

steals the land.

Establishing a blockade,

the natives can not grow,

and you are free to thrive.

 

You weave yourself

into my socks,

and poke my ankles

when I’m trying to work.

Fire monitoring drags on

when I cannot see

stunted perennials

through your shadow.

 

Sometimes,

in the evening light,

you glow

and sway in the breeze,

and I forget

you are so terrible,

so pervasive,

and for this short moment

I enjoy your presence.

 

What a treacherous cheat!

You are a formidable foe.

 

-O

Carson City BLM

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