Summer Pasture
Old catamount lies up a top a granite rock and casts a hungry eye on that summer stock
Out there in the summer pasture.Mares with foals and the herd boss' crew gives him pause as he knows what they can do
Out there in that summer pasture.Once in younger life he'd been kicked and struck and he remembers his big cat's luck
Out there in a summer pasture.When a herd boss and crew caught him cold when he tried to take a pinto foal
Out there in a summer pasture.He still bears scars from when twelve to one, those mares and stallion put him on the run
In that summer pasture.Thinks about what he can do up there high where the mountain scrapes the sky,
Way above the summer pasture.So he takes his scarred and scraggly hide and goes up where no cowhand can ride,
Far from the summer pasture.The herd grazes content in tall green grass, getting fat and watching time pass,
Living good in the summer pasture.I take my eye off the rifle scope and watch that old cat move away at a lope,
Away from the summer pasture.My Savage slides back in the leather and I look to the West to check the weather
Moving toward the summer pasture.Better get up my lean to and collect some sticks, stir up a fire and see what I can fix
For supper above the summer pasture.First I'll feed and water Ranger and Old Bob, good old horses for a hard old job,
Checking the summer pasture.I'll fix some bacon and biskits and some coffee and enjoy as good as it gits,
Minding the summer pasture.I'll be in my soogan, rolled up tight, sound asleep before the rain falls tonight,
On the summer pasture.Tomorrow, if things go the way they should I'll ride through the aspen wood
To the next summer pasture.There we built a little tar paper shack and it'll be good to be getting back
To that summer pasture.There I'll sleep on an old army bed and on goose down pillow I'll rest my head
Tomorrow night in a summer pasture.Next morning, I'll check to make sure the cows and calves haven't come to grief
In that summer pasture.
How can you explain how good it is, living this way?
Out there, you and your horse, at the break of day,
Tending the summer pasture.
Blessed of God in a most uncommon and special way,
Free as it is possible to be in this modern day,
Tending the summer pasture.
© 2004, Dale "Doc" Hayes. All Rights Reserved
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission
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