Keeping with the theme of no theme I'd like to share a bit of cowboy doggerel with my loyal readers. That would be you mom and dad.
Anyhow, my daughter and I got to talking about our adventures in the north country this evening and it spurred me to search for a picture I'd been particularly proud of. It's a picture of a string of well behaved horses, all with packs securely fastened, as though they'd just pulled away from the hitching rail, strung out obediently behind me and crossing the Graham River. We were at the end of a long day that was to only get longer (but that's another story).
Anyone who has worked with horses knows that feeling when the pack string finally falls in line and everyone is just behaving and plodding along in their own world. No stress, no fighting for control, just everyone working along together. It's a great feeling for sure. One day I'll write a poem that captures that feeling. In the meantime I'd like to offer up this one that has nothing to do with horses or the like but I wrote it while out in the mountains so I think it's appropriate:
My Heaven has no sidewalks
My heaven has no sidewalks,
There’s not a lot of people there --
Just lots of open valleys
A bunkhouse and three squares.
My horse is always seven,
Still strong, but smart enough,
And calm and even tempered
Though the trail gets long and tough.
It still rains up in my heaven
But my slicker’s always near,
And the fire’s always burning
In the bunkhouse so I hear.
No my heaven ain’t much different
Than what I already got --
Maybe the winter’s a little warmer
And the summer’s not so hot.
My dog would live much longer,
I’d never bet on twos and threes --
So apart from minor tweaking
Life’s exactly as I please.
So no rush to get to heaven,
Or to get my harp and wings --
Cause just living in the mountains
Plays trump to all those things.