The Reflective Kind
More Cowboy Poetry.
Mountains in the
Mirror
There are mountains in the mirror
As I drive to work each day,
And I can't help but watch them
At each stoplight on the way.
Through the brown and leafless branches,
Past the foothills, dark and dry,
God's majestic handiwork
Juts upward to the sky.
And if I leave for home in time,
There is glory to behold,
As the sun sets past those mountains,
And the sky is pink and gold.
Do you think it's just coincidence,
Or was it prearranged
That what I see each way to work
Is God's mighty mountain range?
The sight lifts up my spirit,
And I thank God right out loud
For the beauty He's created
Mixing peaks with sky and clouds.
There are many things reminding me
To praise the Lord of Hosts,
But the mountains in the mirror
Is the one I like the most.
-Jeff Hildebrandt, Englewood, Colo.
From Sayin' Ain't Bein'
Looper Blues
Quick roping,
Fast loping
Calf all strain and fight.
Wet arenas,
Cheap cantinas,
No bed for the night.
High mile count,
Hard on mount,
Tread on tires slight.
Long score lines,
Big bovines,
Judges with bad sight.
Worn-out ropes,
Damaged hopes,
Confidence a fright.
Fifth once more,
They pay four,
Wallet getting light.
So it goes
At rodeos-
My complaints are trite.
-Rod Miller, Sandy, Utah
Running Barrels
Cantles pound hind pockets.
Plastic shins caress steel.
Quirt pops launch horse rockets,
As they pivot and spin and wheel.
Angled against gravity they turn,
Clawing catlike, lunging out
Into the cloverleaf ’s stem they burn
Toward home with a shout.
Ponytails flying by the pair,
Rowels pound as crowds scream,
Cutting through electrified air,
Breaking beams in under fourteen...
Cowgirls run the barrel race
At most every rodeo I’ve seen—
But never, at any time or place,
Have I ever seen a barrel win.
-Rod Miller, Sandy, Utah
Sundance
He worked the big ranches
Of cattle and men.
The things that he'd seen,
The places he'd been.
His life seemed content here
At our little ranch.
Most days spent relaxin'
When given the chance.
He showed lots of youngsters
The way things were done.
He always went easy,
'Till they were ready to run.
The grandest old teacher,
Best of the best.
When finally he left us,
We laid him to rest.
We speak of him often,
How our lives he enhanced.
That once in a lifetime,
A horse named Sundance.
-Blaine Williams, Odessa, MO
Whiskey Confession
Back from El Paso,
I hung up my lasso,
Believing the trail had gone cold.
The murdering thief
Who slaughtered my beef
Would never wear tie and blindfold.
I gave up my spread
Pouring whiskey instead
Only fools thought that life should be fair.
But when drink loosened a tongue,
The man’s secrets were sprung
I meted out justice right there.
-Stephen D. Rogers, Buzzards Bay, Mass.
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