Suzanne Bassinger

Ode to the Dirt Ditch Irrigator

Yesterday a dry canal.
Today—full-bellied, aching to spill Wyoming
snowmelt over dry Nebraska pastures.

You pay your dues, claim your allotment.
Call the ditchrider to open your headgate.
For two weeks you will move your water
every 8 hours. For two weeks you will walk
your field, shovel on shoulder, boots to thighs,
drag orange tarps and old fenceposts to
make a dam, turn out the flow, walk your field,
find the dry spots, avoid the badger holes that
steal it all, move your water, drag your tarp,
set a dam, shovel a notch, or find last years old one
because you’re tired, it’s late and
in 8 hours you’ll be back to move the water.
To walk your field, set your dam, shovel
a notch, turn out the flow.

For you—the cows low at the fence,
smelling the water, dreaming of grass.

***

You Gave Me Invincible

You armored me with the Carhartt badge worn
by farmers, utility workers, auto mechanics.
I loved the secret lingerie
of the chorus-girl red taffeta lining
whispering as I slipped into
the manliness of faded black-to-gray
rough canvas bib overalls sporting
frayed heels, manure stains, barb-wire
tears from sagging fences.
Loved to clasp your buckles
over my shoulders, pull zipper
from belly to chest, stride
out into the day. Invincible.

I could laugh at negative
Fahrenheit, wind chill warnings, boot-deep snow.
Walk fearless into the February morning
bucking-horse-cold feedings, mid-day negative
Fahrenheit ice-breaking of water troughs,
and then: the evening music
of frost-backed horses nickering
for the chilled grass hay, lots of it,
to stoke their bellies through
the coming bone-cold night.

When it was all done, and ice clung
to my legs as I waded back
to the glowing house, I would unzip
and unbuckle. Smile as black canvas
slipped way to red taffeta.
Stand you frozen-legged over
the heater vent to thaw. To wait to hold me
again tomorrow morning. You gave me
invincible. Indestructible
Lined with chorus girl songs
of red taffeta.

Suzanne Bassinger moved from the New York City area to Colorado as a teenager and fell immediately in love with the west, with wide open spaces, prairie skies, horses and cattle and cowboys and hayfields. Graduating as a civil engineer, her professional career spanned residential and commercial development, water treatment, water rights, and fire recovery. She co-owned a boarding and training stable in Colorado for 10 years then ranched, farmed, and irrigated in western Nebraska for another five years. As a leather worker, she produced a dozen custom saddles, as well as chaps, carved leather work, and horse gear. Poetry is her truest mirror.

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