I walk out with the horse,
He does not resist.
Leads as if there’s not a diseased bone in his body.
He does not notice children crying,
Rain stopping, sun brightening,
But rather a yellow butterfly;
Moves his head to keep it in sight
Until, for some reason he will never know,
He can no longer do so.
————————
Cowboy
When I was a cowboy
I always wore boots,
I rode a chestnut mare
And she never went quits.
We’d take any trail
We’d cross any bridge.
Sometimes she was nasty,
She kicked and she bit
But we’d cover big country
By night or by day,
A walk or a jog
Or just plain run away.
I was crazy to love it,
But I thought it was fun,
Just me and the wild one
Out on our own.
But when I was a cowboy
And I always wore boots
I rode a chestnut mare
Who never went quits -?
Well boots is just leather
And horses do die
Now the trails paved over
And wire seems to stretch
Right up to the sky.
And me I’m just here in this ol’ county bar
Trying to roll another cigarette
And nursing warm beer.
PD Lyons’ newest book is Caribu&Sister Stones published by Lapwing Press Belfast. Visit pd Lyons here.
http://caperlitjournal.weebly.com/6/category/pd%20lyons/1.html
