Sometimes I just can't wait for the morning when I wake up in a little, chilly aired bunkhouse.
Lean myself up against the old wood frame around a window, gaze out at a sunrise over fields and a little old barn.
Peer out at my string of horses through foggy glass and smile as they nip at each other in a half hearted fight for hay.
Little moccasin slippers on my feet and the floor creaks beneath me.
Steaming coffee in the pot and fresh biscuits out of the oven.
With a little drizzling honey.
Crisp, cold jeans slipped over white legs and a wool sweater pulled over messy tied hair.
Boot heels tap the floor and my spurs ring their morning cry when my foot slips tight into my boot.
Cold hands with painted red nails, an old felt hat setting lightly on top my head while I sip at my coffee, still gazing through that window.
Thinking to myself how nice that colt is coming along, then grab my chaps and head out the door.
A little filly lets out a squeal and I slip a halter on a solid built gray gelding.
He's got a frisky look this morning, just the way I like em;)
And he tosses my a funny look when a pad slaps down on his back, a buckaroo saddle just after it.
The day, bright, hopeful and promising.
The air, crisp and sweet, with a lingering scent of horses.
The day's work smooth, graceful and pleasing, then we ride back to the barn.
Sun setting over distant mountain peaks and I crack an old Will James book open as I rock in an old rockin' chair.
I've read it before but Smoky The Cowhorse has won my heart time and time again.
So I let this day drift into night.
And I let myself be carried off into "The Will James Days" rockin' next to a wood stove.
And my heart smiles and my mind thinks that Smoky is just like that nice little colt in the corral.
And all is well with a little cowboy-girl.
~Gussie Lou Lou