I’m patiently waiting for the day
when I will jes’ set out front
a lil shack on the patio as
some may call it, or a deck
I see myself, mouth full of tobacco,
eased back in a chair, feet up,
on a makeshift table, actually,
a spool, from which come three
hunnert yards of steel cable
at one time or ‘nother,
wore out ol’ boots been
many times patched,
been many times slipped int’a
stirrup slung o’er the back
of some rank, young, green
caballo, gone snortin’ ’round
the pen.
On that deck, built
from rough cut lumber
and six-inch ardox spikes
and long cut tobacco,
set back in a ol’ chair
held from fallin’ ‘part by
left o’er nine wir’
in a worn pair of blue
jeans and well crafted boots
up on a makeshift table
‘longside a single shot twenny-two,
watchin’ out cross a yard,
in a very lib’ral sense of the word,
mostly bare dirt and a few
dried weeds, squared up by a
mended barb-wire fence, to a pasture
where a half-dozen horses
compete with one ‘nother
for the choice pickens, pinnin’ back
ears an’ paw’n front of the glow
of early spring sun down.
Soon’ll be dark and a short, stocky,
lil, red roan dog, product of countless
gen’rations of unrestrain’t breeding,
comes up from his mischief,
pushes his head up ‘gainst my palm,
smiles. All’s well with the universe
Don’t freeze o’ernight,
gets cool but don’t freeze
no more, and green’s start’n
poke through where the ground
ain’t been blowed dry. Tin cup
beside my boots still’s got one more
swallow of luke warm coffee in’t.
Sun’s ’bout down now, means I
ought turn in for the night.
Little shack here, wood stove,
table, rug that the dog sleeps on.
My home here, at last.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s