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.