A Cowboy's Journal
A Cowboy's Journal
By: Tom Wright
10/10/98
The old corral stands,
silver and smooth from no care.
From years of neglect,
in the crisp mountain air.
Earlier covered with frost
now black and wet from the thaw.
I saddled Sugar Foot, my Mustang,
then searched my vest for a chaw.
Finishing up with my Mustang,
I checked again old Jack.
He was packed out with water,
along with a full winters tack.
It is Molly's first pack trip
and her load fits like a glove.
Now, it's off to the Line Shack,
beyond the ridge top above.
Snow to Sugar Foots belly,
I had to ride through.
With ice frozen to my stirrups,
but what's a Cowboy to do.
I'll keep the fences mended,
even rounding up a stray.
and on cold winter nights,
keep the Wolves at bay.
Then alone at night,
by the fireplace I'll sit.
Listening to the fire talk,
while I whittle and spit.
As Christmas approached
I had myself a real treat.
For I bagged a big Elk
and had fresh camp meat.
Enough meat to last
beyond next springs thaw.
When I'll pack out my animals
and head back down the draw.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2019
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