Past a peaceful day out Western Trail way,
Our lowing herd settled on coarse sand bars.
We hands bunched under prancing prairie stars,
Once clean grub tins and cups were put away,
For tall yarn desserts, dance, and campfire songs.
Lit by burning buffalo chips and sage,
Our campfire blazed hot, challenging the dark,
Holding at bay the prairie wind’s chill bark.
Night...
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