Autumn Cowboy

The cowboy in cascading leaves has lingered much too long, As he sings amid red and gold, summer’s last dying song. The sky is clear and blue this day, but change is in the air— Far mountains shine with crisp, white caps and blow cold wind through hair. He softly spurs dreams into a stampede of falling leaves— Wishing that the best of worlds would bring bad men to their knees. He turns his horse to the north and heads for that old line shack— Hoping that the larder’s full and come spring he’ll be riding back. He trails sweet salmon sunset as brass leaves rustle the breeze— Far sky melts to shining white as snow is held back by trees. He knows hard winter’s coming, its cold silver slides in fast— For a time he savors summer, knowing good things don’t last. The cowboy in cascading leaves has lingered much too long, As he sings amid red and gold, summer’s last dying song.