Emily Martindale Receives Poetry Recognition
Congratulations are in order for Emily Martindale whose poem titled “Branding The Sandhills” was chosen by the Nebraska Writing Project's Poetry of Place contest as a winning poem. Only 9-12 poems are chosen across the state each year so this is quite the literary honor. The poetry contest is designed to reflect life in Nebraska and each students’ piece is reflective of their “place” in the state. Emily will have the opportunity to read her poem at the capitol on May 4th along with the other winners. Nebraska poets Twyla Hansen and Matt Mason were the judges for the poetry contest.
Branding The Sandhills
Swish of the grass in the summer’s gust of wind
Lowing of the pairs of cows and this year’s calves
Nickering of the 1200-pound animal underneath me
Sandhills sand carried by the wind into my eyes
Slight smell of a patch of spiderworts flows through the wind
Creeks of the windmill pumping up the water from the aquifer
The soft sound of the water rustling through the river
People gathering up the cattle as we prod them to the pen of panels
The ho’s and hey’s of the wranglers pushing them into the homestretch
Chatter of the older ladies and gents as they prepare for the bunch
Children running around not caring 'bout what the adults said
With the irons all ready to brand the gates open
Wails of the first calf caught
2 shots, brand, cut, 2 shots, brand, cut
The pattern continues with the next calf
Smoke of yellow and white
The stench of blood, sweat and burnt hair
All taken away by a pleasant breeze
Last calf worked and let up
Shouts of the elders tell the younger to pick up the panels
Clash of the panels’ together echoes across the pasture
Panels on the trailer, horses loaded, were ready to leave
We gather at the host’s house or shop
As you walk in you see
Rows upon rows of muddy boots at the door
Wash up and get in line
Plates, napkins and plastic silverware
Varieties of food sit in a row
Salads to Roast, Rolls to Desserts
A cooler of sodas and other beverages at the end
Sit in rows of tables
Chatter of the crowd soon fills the room
Happy memories are made
Either one is drenched by a cooler of ice water
Or one does something so stupid they can’t live it down
We leave with a check in my hand
And with a new memory