A Paler Shade Of Blue
When the final rays of sunriseslip behind the hills
the lands alive with haunting cries
of distant whipporwills.
It's twilight in the canyon
the nights are turning cool
when shadows fill the empty void
a lonesome coyote howls.
White face cattle lo-in
the cowboy sits awhile
the campfire where he cooks his beans
the only light for miles.
The acrid smell of burning sage
and coffee fill the air
with soda biscuits freshly baked
it's life along the trail.
The morning brings another day
with saddle sores and sun
the cowboy rides the open range
from dawn until he's done.
A man before the West was won
living by his wits
he wrestled steers and mended fence
for little more than spit.
From working in the rain and snow
his spirit's badly worn
for years he's yearned to quit the cows
and buy a house in town.
His eyes are growing dimmer
the pleasures left are few
like faded jeans his life's become
a paler shade of blue.
Poetry by David L Wright
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Editors' choiceWritten on 2008-01-29 at 03:15
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Editorial Team |
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Shawn Monahan |
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Rob Graber |
|
Kathy Lockhart |
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lastromantichero |
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Nathalia |
