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by Tamara Hillman
Just look at that coyote
lurkin’ a far over there,
he reminds me of my younger days
when I had nary a care.
It didn’t matter the season—
snow or summer sun,
I lived my life plum’ for myself
an was an ornery son-of-a-gun.
Only foraged for food in my gut
an’ clothes to fit my need,
an’ a dog who loved me spite of it all,
an’ a wild horse for my steed.
I wondered ‘cross the country
an’ stopped but now & then,
hung my hat in a bunkhouse
when needin’ rest from sin.
I scuttled about from ranch to ranch—
pay poor, an’ work was mean,
hours from sunup ‘til darkness,
an’ like that coyote, I was lean,
But I never got discouraged
‘cause I was livin’ single
‘til a filly down ol’ Texas way
taught me how to mingle.
I’m still like that ol’ coyote
but in a different way,
got six kids an’ a pretty wife
who gave my life some sway.
I settled on a gnarly ranch—
a place to call my own,
an’ work the place from dusk ‘til dawn
with nary a grunt nor groan.
‘Cause now, ya see, that ol’ coyote
has matured into a fox,
I’ll not be freezin’ in the snow,
nor livin’ in a box.
I got me a real warm fire now,
a dog layin’ by my chair,
six kids an’ a wife who love me
an’ I sure ain’t got no cares.
Tamara Hillman © 2017
This poem should not be reposted or reprinted without permission
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