Cowboy

Having lived in the American Southwest since 1963, I have been exposed, first-hand, to the land of the cowboy and his ways. Although Phoenix, where I live has been ”easternized”  to a great extent,

we still will see an occasional cowboy with a sidearm on the hip at the grocery store picking up grub for the ranch. Fortunately, in the smaller rural towns the western-style living is still alive and well.

The picture for today’s poem was attached to an email I received recently. My poem is completely different from the story told in the email, but that often happens. . . . The story teller and I will see the picture differently.

Enjoy……….



A weathered cowboy heads down a winding trail

His faithful dog, trotting along side, wags his tail

He’s been working the herd for more than a week

Getting chuck wagon food and water from a creek

The cattle are all grouped and calm for the night

Watched over by ranch hands at a nearby campsite

The sun’s going down; it’s been one of those days

Riding, eating lots of dust and rounding up strays

He’s heading home now after that exhausting ordeal

Taking time out for bones to mend and muscles to heal

But, even though storm clouds are forming overhead

He’ll need to rough it here tonight, a blanket for his bed

 Up at dawn and riding, he’ll be back at the ranch by noon

A quick bath, a short nap, he’ll be singing a different tune

Cowboys are among the toughest hombres under the sun

They played a major role in “How the West Was Won”

                                                        Poem by Herm Meyer

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STUFF:

Fellow blogger Lynn McBride commented that last weeks "Pays Du Vin"  photo was just like the French country-side where she lives. Check out her great blog at Southern Fried French . You will enjoy her story on relocating to France and the chateau where she and her husband live. Lynn also posts some great food recipes!