Morning Ride

Morning Ride

Dawn breaks orange over this land
As dew on alfalfa and timothy glistens
Like a million shining diamonds,
I rein up my pony and listen.

A meadowlark trills his anthem
Across the unbreaking plain
Where day and night kiss
In sweet parting pain.

Down by the crick I ride,
A coyote visited during the night.
The same old nuisance has ranged here for years,
His crooked hind track a familiar sight.

A soporific peace settles on my shoulders
As the sun stretches his arms across the sky
Warming my chinks and thawing my heart
So I can just let go and fly.

I escape my walls of worry
And the one time my life seems clear
Is when I ride out here alone,
The world framed by a horse's ears.

A golden eagle power dives above me
Taking flight a moment before he hits the ground.
His own wings are his salvation in that last second
When there's no other savior to be found.

I knee my pony up toward the aspen stand
And he strains against the trot.
He's young and feeling frisky this morning,
Like me, wanting more than he's got.

Finally I throw my cares to the wind
And turn him loose in a stretch of pasture.
Hereford cows look on, amused I suppose,
As we push each other to go faster.

Stampede strings save my hat
And my wild rag whips my cheeks
Where the wind is bringing on tears now
But there's no stopping, stretched out and sleek

.A war whoop merits a startled look
From a doe grazing at the tree line,
But I'm in my own dimension now
And for once I feel just fine.

If we could run like this forever
You can bet we probably would,
But running never gets you anywhere
If you're not doing what you should.

My little palomino glows golden in this light
As we slow, both breathing hard,
Lathered up and quivering,
Our wild batteries recharged.

The sun is fully up now
And I've got fence to ride
But there's no feeling in this world
Like a new day caressing my hide.

Lonesome Nights

Lonesome Nights
　
The shy ears of the sage unfurl
Standing ready to hear my heart.
It’s here among the cholla and dirt
My time for reflection can start.

Burning orange across the horizon
Are the few remaining embers of day,
Slicing the landscape and the night
In the most unforgiving way.

I hear my pony cropping grass
And thank him for today’s ride.
It’s out here when we’re all alone
These feelings well up inside.

I pull the stars over me like a blanket
And my saddle’s where I lay my head.
I’d rather be out here tonight
Than facing my empty bed.

A lonesome coyote yips in the night
And is joined by a chorus on the hill.
I take in their haunting symphony
And pull my Winchester closer still.

A girl’s gotta keep her guard up
When she’s out here on her own
Because as soon as she gives in a little
She knows her weakness has shown.

I’ve had my heart broken time and again
And I’m ready to give up on love.
I guess I don’t deserve the cowboy
Who doesn’t need to push or shove.

I’m like a spooky colt now
When he reaches out his hand.
Knees quivering, eyes rimmed white
I don’t know whether to bolt or stand.

Part of me wants to take a bit,
Be corralled to a home as a wife,
But part of me still wants to run
And see what I can do in this life.

It’s on lonely nights like these
That I long for a pair or strong arms,
Someone to hold me close
And draw me in with his charms.

I want to feel his breath on my neck
And have a love that will never end.
I want to hear a deep soothing voice
But all I hear is the wind.

The coyotes keep howlin’ in my living room of sage
And stars twinkle bright overhead.
I’d still rather be out here tonight
Than facing my empty bed.

Lover's Moon

Lover’s Moon
　
Bodies entwined under a blanket of stars,
Ordained by a full prairie moon,
Young lovers embrace for tomorrow he’s leaving
And she whispers, “Come back to me soon.”

His first love is the rodeo
And she knows, she understands,
But on lonely nights when the feeling is right
She misses the feel of his hands.

His strong and sinewy body
Presses into her skin.
His need to ride, to rope and be free
Is stronger than her need within.

Friends tell her she should move on
But they just don’t understand
What it means to give your heart away,
Even to a roaming man.

His dark hair brushes against her
Creating a shiver down her spine,
A tear traces its way down her cheek
When he whispers, “Someday you’ll be mine.”

His deep eyes look right through her soul
And his heart beats in tune with hers.
As much as she’d love him to stay
She loves how he looks in his spurs.

She kisses him deep and with passion,
Making love to him all night,
His hands flowing through her hair,
And their bodies just so right.

He’ll be up and gone with the sun,
His only companion his horse,
But she knows as long as she’s true
He’ll be back at the end of his course.

She doesn’t know that his winnings
Are adding up to buy a ring,
The reason he’s riding and roping so much
Is to buy her one nice thing.

She only knows that she loves him
And her cowboy will come home soon,
So their bodies entwine under a blanket of stars,
Ordained by a full prairie moon.

Cavieta

Cavieta
　
Bring in the cavieta, boys,
I want to see them through my window
Rolling off that sea of prairie
Wherever the wind will blow.

Moonlight shinin' off arched dun backs
And stars kissin' sorrel manes,
Run home that cavieta, boys,
Let the horses free me from my chains.

I braid my hair into a riata
And wish I could throw it down tonight
And catch a piece of freedom,
Caress smooth hide and take flight.

I'd go running out across The Divide
To where the rivers run west,
There I'd find a piece of myself
And maybe I'd lose the rest.

I see him on his tall bay
Bringing the horses in,
The man that has my heart and soul
And I long to feel his skin.

I get drunk on the moonlight,
Not the whiskey in my glass.
I don't know if he loves me
And I'm too afraid to ask.

So maybe I'll just run away
Before he sees me cry,
Or maybe he'll have an eclipse of the heart
And give real romance a try.

That's more than I can hope for,
I don't deserve a rose
So instead I watch him from my window
And hold his wild rag close.

I wish I didn't want him
Or that he wanted me, too
For more than just a plaything
Or when there's laundry to do.

His is the kiss I ache for,
The arms I need to hold me tight,
So I take him when I can have him
And watch him in the night

When he brings in the cavieta…
I see them through my window
Rolling off that sea of prairie,
Wherever the wind will blow.

Remuda

Remuda
　
The night hawk sits with the remuda,
A lonely cuss at best.
Just watchin’ and thinkin’ all night long
Puttin’ his memory to the test.

With nothin’ left to think or do
He’s mentally separatin’ the strings
Within the small band of horses,
Ponderin’ colors and such things.

The gray and the chestnut are Danny’s,
The bay and the grulla, I think they are too.
His favorite’s that ‘ol palomino,
He’ll be a good stock horse when he’s through.

Jake’s been breakin’ the little paint horse
And lays claim to the dunny as well.
He’s got a fine lookin’ apaloosa.
Big, near sixteen hands, far as I can tell.

That stompin’ spitfire filly
Is one of Charlie’s bunch,
Out of his old black stud
I’ll say, just on a hunch.

The blood bay and the gelding with four white socks
And part of Bud’s trail mob.
His strawberry roan has some cow sense
And a good head for most any job.

He starts ponderin’ his own string,
And is pert near fond of that dark bay.
She’s a handful from time to time
But sure ‘nuff smarter than my gray.

That buckskin’s dusted my britches
And tried my might a time or two
But I’d almost lay down money
She’ll be as good as my old sorrel when I’m through.

That’s Billy’s there that’s actin’ up
And causin’ a stir within the bunch.
That’s a cayuse won’t never do nothin’
But eat yer gizzard for lunch.

Is that Cody’s over there limpin’?
Prob’ly just a stone bruise.
He had to shoot the pinto last month, broke leg…
But that horse’d paid his dues.

I wish’d I had the boss’ blue roan,
He’ll make a good stud horse, I’ll bet.
Maybe next year I’ll get a colt of his,
Better get in as good as I can get.

I’ve only ever named one horse
And he was simply “Pard.”
I still get lonesome when I think of our trails,
Boy, losin’ him was hard…

The night hawk’s still sittin’ with the remuda
When a new hand comes for his shift
But he sees him sittin’ there thinkin’
So he just lets his mind drift.

That buckskin there is Joe’s, and the bay, too;
He’s probably thinkin’ the same things…
The next night watch takes his place on the bluff,
Mentally separatin’ strings.

Brotherly Brandin'

Brotherly Brandin’
　
A-headin’ and a-heelin’ furies they were
When they dallied and dragged a calf to the fire.
Josh and little brother Cayle Cooper
Were brandin’ hands without tire.

“Boys, watch them Cooper brothers work,”
The ranch boss’d say.
They were all business, but then again,
Everyone has their off days.

It all started one Sunday mornin’
When neither could hit their aim.
One would miss a horn, the other a hoof,
So bein’ brothers they laid blame.

“You’re not throwin’ long enough!”
Or, “Shake that loop out to size!”
But what steamin’ Josh did next
Caught everyone by surprise.

When they finally got one caught
It was almost in Cayle’s lap
And when Josh picked up that brandin’ iron
He set it down on brother’s chaps.

Now, in all my days a-watchin’
I’ve never seen a boy get so fired.
They went at it like brothers should
And neither of ‘em tired.

They was plumb covered in dirt and sweat and blood
When Cayle pinned big brother to the ground.
He let ‘em up with a satisfied smirk
And started lookin’ around.

“Where’d that iron go?” he asked
But stopped when he seen Josh’s eyes gone wide.
They found the iron when they peeled him up,
Square under his backside.

Josh bears marks of their encounter
And Cayle’s got a story to tell,
But we figure for bein’ brothers,
They work together right well!

Cowboy Church

Cowboy Church
Inspired by Andy Hedges

A clean-cut cowboy preacher’s son
Steps up to the pulpit on Sunday.
Well, it wasn’t really a pulpit,
It was more like chute number 3.

He clears his throat and removes his hat
And starts to speak the Word,
He’s just a cowboy preacher’s son,
Speaking to those who haven’t heard.

People gather ‘round him
To hear him tell the story
Of how Jesus once walked the earth
And how He’s waiting in glory.

His battle-beaten Bible
Rests close by his hand
As he quotes scripture from memory,
A cowboy preacher’s son takes a stand.

A cold rain starts to drizzle
Standin’ at chute number three
But everyone stands rapt by his words,
A cowboy telling of the Almighty.

His words aren’t special or eloquent,
He just tells the story that he knows.
The message is plain and simple
While closer to Christ he grows.

Everyone stops what they’re doing
To hear the cowboy preacher’s son,
His words carry across the arena,
For his sermon has just begun.

He saves the lost while rodeoin’ hard,
Never wavering in his task,
If you ever need to hear the story,
All you need do is ask.

They say he’s just a cowboy preacher’s son,
Never prone to cuss or fight,
But he’s a cowboy, sure enough,
Riding the range for Christ.