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Ferryman's Pole, Part 4

The stump of one spar poked above the rest beside me slope descending
And I roped that spit in the hope that it would not have me on the fire turning
On that fire burning

I tied one end to my saddle horn with a stirrup on each side 
And I held my breath diggin' in my spurs prayin' this would be my ride 
That this would be my ride

My wooden bronco bucked and turned in this rodeo from Hell
As the torrent grew round and round we flew to the Talon down below
The Talon down below

In all of my riata days I never held on tighter
I knew that this was my last crew and I'd go down a fighter
I would go down a fighter

Then something came upside my head and last I saw stars blazin'
And when my sense at last I found I was floating down the Talon
The swiftly flowing Talon

Around me floated such a mess as I have never seen
But the mount I chose still above it rose and carried me to safety
It carried me down to safety

I prayed and swore on that rocky shore where the Talon left me lying
And when I looked back t'ward the peak where we had all been standing
Nothing was left standing

________________________________________

I miss those boys and the open skies but not that haunted mountain
I’ll not return with all I’ve learned and days I still am countin’
Each day I will be countin’

As a day I've earned by lessons learned and not taken for granted
So I won't go whether sand or snow to the Talon River Crossing
Ne'er the Talon I'll be crossing

The days I've left before my death not many I can count on
But with my last breath I'll curse his name that surely you can count on
That surely you can count on

With my death rattle I'll curse his name
That surely you can count on

Copyright © John Stetson | Year Posted 2025

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