Out of the Badlands
Deep in the Badlands, are canyons that claim
many a man, who rides without name
He's hiding or runnin', from somethun' he's done
Outcast, or outlaw....without any fame
but keeping a lookout for someone to come
A hawk circles low, on a brown afternoon,
like a curious vagrant, in the land of the sun.
On the trail in the Badlands, while the afternoon sighs,
are two saddled horses, two men, and their packs.
Cowpokes done riding, with the sun at their backs.
with pall of white clouds driftin' over their heads,
from a rift in the cottonwoods, that frame the canyon's ledge
The riders have paused, under gunmetal skies,
searching the canyon, for a place to bed down
to un-halter their horses, before the stars fill the night
To stare at a fire, with meager a bite
and a place to find shelter, and rest up for the fight
They will drink in illusion, as the horses refresh,
as they prance through deep waters, on the next summer's day
They are thirsty for rest, wipe the sweat off their brows
Will be back by the sunrise.....when they're back on the trail
Keeping a watch, from the canyon below,
But moving along, as the tumbleweeds roll
.
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Cowboys In The Badlands Contest: Sponsored By Isaiah Zerbst
9/20/14
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
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