Poetry Of Spirit And Light: The Cowboy Life

Another gale force Llano Estacado trail sweeper pushes windblown soil into West Texas. While the gritty furies rage, I reminisce about trail rides and chasing cattle with my cowboy friends Tony and Randy. The New Mexico shortgrass prairie and dusty sand hills are their stompin’ grounds. Cowboy lore of life on the range colors and drives their exploits. Countless times I ventured into the endless horizons of the New Mexico plains under their tutelage. Their knowledge, patience, and humor initiated this greenhorn into the cowboy way of life. Every minute was a lifetime of adventure.

Rain doesn’t fall, but the wind does blow,
Dust clouds shroud the deep blue skies,
They roam the high plains of New Mexico,
Where cattle bawl, and the hawk still flies.

Roll out of bed at o’dark thirty,
Gloves and hat hangin’ on the rack,
Boots and spurs are still dirty,
Old pickup awaits, two dogs in the back.

Saddle up with the rising sun,
A Paint named Trouble, Melonhead a red mule,
Two weathered cowpokes out for fun,
One greenhorn, ‘bout to go to school.

Smell the sage, roust antelope and deer,
Ride fence in the draws and up sand hills,
Round up heifers and chase ornery steer,
Get ‘em to water, jabber till the tank spills.

Border Collies work to keep doggies in line,
Chutes, gates, needles, brandin’ iron smoke,
Tag, count, check heifers, their due dates divine,
Bulls leave as steers, without a knife stroke.

The sun paints the Western horizon red,
While coyotes sing ballads to the moon,
Greenhorn can’t wait to find a soft bed,
Dreams will surrender to dawn, too soon.

Rain doesn’t fall, but cold wind does blow,
Blizzards unleash from an angry sky,
On the high plains of New Mexico,
Cattle calls echo, cowboys will never die.