Olden Time Chase

OLDEN TIME CHASE Hear them shout! Voices carried on olden winds Young faces peering round trees Round the corner of old houses Seen through a scrim clouding memory Oh there are Redskins! There are bandits! Guns whittled out of orange crates Horses fashioned up from movie image Hear them whinny Alive through the mouths of children Kids focused ‘neath a giant cottonwood Near the alley on a vacant lot Not a lot really But a dusty stage for many exciting plots Hear them shout! How the horses stir the dust How the Indians whoop! I hear the summer chase On sunny days When there’s not a thing to do