. . . Cowboys and Cattle Land...A Little Old Bunkhouse . . .

Cowboys and cattle land
A little old bunkhouse.
Dust in the summer
Blizzard scar in the winter
Wind through the pines.
A creek littered with laughing children in wet denim
Unraveled braids
Mischievous smiles masking pure hearts.
Horse hair and sweat.
Perfected biscuit recipe
Baked golden like the horse that shares its name.
Wiry strands of creamy mane lace my fingers.
Conchos show the sun to itself.
Broncs have run these corrals
Their hooves have acquainted with the cedar.
Black and white cow dogs trot beside a young boy on a big sorrel.
Cow-calf pairs drift on.
Bulls butt heads, throwing 2000 pounds one way then the next.
83 years of experience, memories and heart sit atop a paint
And grandma cusses in the kitchen.
Fresh air tastes better spiced with freedom
And we bounce in our innocence and happiness.
Silk and slides smile beneath smiles.
Metal rattles at the gravel.
Shiners beneath felt laugh at the world from their black and blue.
Fresh horses shake out in steep country.
God smiles upon the land
The horses
The buckaroos and buckaroogirls.

♡♡♡
Luvs, Gussie

 

Carl and I sorting last summer