If it had to happen he hoped it wouldn’t be too brutal. The twinges keep reminding him of days gone by when taking it was a little easier. The only choice he had to do was man up and take the challenge head on. He was becoming a cowboy, he wondered at first if it was the weather change. He hoped friends and family wouldn’t be too alarmed, but it was something a good old boy couldn’t avoid.
Now this just didn’t happen overnight, but there seemed to be a song in the air this time of year that caught his attention. He soon noticed that swagger in his step, and tried to avoid it. He hoped it wasn’t just cause he oiled up the old boots and was feeling a bit nice. Soon he was standing in square dance lessons thinking of outfits to wear to the next dance. Eventually he was buying a new hat and boots every four or five months, and it was a done deal. That rodeo buckle couldn’t look any better if he ever got one.
Now this season had some other influences and the next thing he knew he was trying to rope a calf. Calving season had started a little early this year and he had almost forgot how early it could be. He was watching a group of eagles and soon one flew in with a long slender piece of meat to tease a few friends. He watched for a bit and he flew off, only to return again. He had the same meat he thought and then remembered there were renderings for this eagle in the fields. Cattle having his interests for a long time made him often found watching groups from the fence, visualizing a good steak sometimes, or wishing to retain some of their calmness.
His mom had often told him to watch out for wild women. He soon began watching them in groups, trying to determine the wildest. Her wisdom made him feel this would be a good choice of spousal material, should that urge indulge him also. A few were auditioned, but they never rang that bell. There were a few close calls, but his dream cowgirl wasn’t in sight, quite yet, and the journey continued. He had lost his last wife and after a few years searching for her, he decided he might not ever find her. Perhaps some day she would return, you never knew. He knew there were many fish in the sea, but fewer great catches. The land called out to him again and again, and he found good solace in this friend.
A sound of the posse rumbled into his life and the spring round up had begun. Many of the young males had their bullish life interrupted. This called for festive celebration after wrestling calves in the mud to change their lives a bit. The fryers were brought out and letters of invitation would go out to partake in the fries that were harvested. This year that mud was deeper and colder than, well it ever had been. A popular sport of getting out the drive also became get out of the field. Boys with their toys whittled down their transmissions and smeared that black gold right down the highway. It was almost like being on an unpaved road as he went out to shoot one day. This work all done he geared up to watch them graze and grow. There was that song again, the song of the land.
More than anything else
One can have in life
Is the most treasured prize,
Sharing all of this together.