A Red Navajo Blanket

A red Navajo blanket Shines in the setting sun— Marking a cowboy’s final rest When that long ride is done. There will be no wood marker Or stone to note his place— We’ll just remember laughter And long recall his face. “Please boys,” he asked us softly, “Do one last thing for me And put that Navajo rug High where the world will see. “An old dying Indian Passed that blanket to me— After I tried to save him From sure death meant to be. “Oh, it won’t last forever— Like leaves it will soon fall— But like a man’s life well-lived, Beauty’s what we recall.” So high upon that green hill We placed blanket and grave, Then said what words that we knew In hopes a soul we’d save. A red Navajo blanket Shines in the setting sun— Marking a cowboy’s final rest When that long ride is done.