Riding the Rim of Dreams
Oh, he shakes out his old blanket
And stirs that dying fire,
Watching dim embers star black sky
As wolves and snakes conspire
To make his sleeping uneasy
With thoughts of strays and streams,
As long restless sleep comes slowly
Riding the rim of dreams.
Low fire calls his name and crackles
Like a girl in Broken Bow,
That he promised he would marry
Before he had to go.
Now coyotes croon his story—
Sing sad and lonely tales
Of that old cowboy’s far travels
Down mountainsides and trails.
And like his life, that old campfire
Burns low and then flares high,
As he drifts off in welcome sleep
Not dreaming that he’ll die.
They’ll find him in the orange dawn,
Stone still by ash mesquite,
The last remains of man’s efforts—
All stories told and complete.
Now soft sleep comes much more easy
Or to his friends it seems,
All his long trails have now lessened
As he rides the rim of dreams.
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