What can YOU say in six sentences?
My hands are dark with dirt and blood and manure after recoiling my rope so many times in the branding pen.
My shoulders are sore with fatigue.
Why do they ride for their money? Why do they rope for short pay?
The song is in my head mainly because I need music tonight as I lead his horse home while mine trots out, the sun sinking behind us, no longer tired since he is pointed in the right direction, and perhaps we'll get unsaddled before dark.
It is a compounded tired, iced with a thin layer of elation, the kind that comes from knowing the job is well-done and the end is in sight.
It is in the knowing that I have never been stronger in my life, that I can get on that huge white horse from flat ground, that I can take my dally welties* with alacrity and work the rope with more skill.
It is in the better-trained eye that says that cow doesn't have her calf, that the little red steer will only go 450 so we'll get him in…Continue
I am tired down in my bones.
I can feel the dregs of tired even when I rise, not tired from stress or demands or staying awake too long, but the kind of tired that comes from work... hard, physical, use all of your muscles and keep on using them work.
Not the kind of tired that comes from going for a run or mowing the lawn, but the kind of tired that comes from long hot days full of neverending pushpullllift-holditsteady-heaveitover-ridealways…Continue
I can be silenced.
I can be muted, mooted, made to shrink.
I can be put in my place far beyond your reach.
I can hold my tongue and hold my heart in cupped hands, careful not to spill the shards or the liquid hurt.
I can be run off, made to hide in the secret places until the moon rises and danger is past.
I can be silenced, sure.
It is so difficult to explain my week to you, the details that made it sing for me, and I think perhaps you had to be there.
It would be hard to even know where to start, from the turkey buzzard in his Horaltic pose, to the coyote who trotted boldly up to drink right across the tank from us, to the two small does who followed shortly after when it was almost dusk, plus the gift of…Continue
"Mom! Mom! Mooooooommmyyyyy!!!!! I'm hungry!"
"My women, my waterlot, my territory,my song."
"I am here. Don't step on me. I mean, I bite."
Hey, baby...wanna get it…Continue
Bob Winders handed me a snake.
We were standing in the evening light talking about horses, dogs, cows, and chainsaws when I saw her shining in the sun.
Only this morning I untangled her shed, a complete skin from eye-hole to tail, from the scratchy grass where she left it so that she could revel in new skin, the kind that shines.
Bob Winders picked her up, moving his hand gradually along her length, always brining one hand up behind her head as we walked toward the…Continue