February 20, 2009

The Last Horse Trade

The Last Horse Trade
by Paul Kern

I was blessed to have had a Dad who taught me to ride,
And across the Utah desert and through the Colorado snow,
He taught me to love the mounts we rode.
Together we left tracks across the mountain west,
From the Windriver Range to the Tetons,
Through Montana and deep in the mountains of Idaho.

And those horses we’d ride - why there was Slippers and Prince,
And – quick before they slip away –
There's Tarsh and Ladd, Latigo, Indy, Spotted Eagle, Smokey and Buck,
And storming through the sage come Jenny and Missy,
Toby and Duke, Dan and Aspen the palomino, Rory the paint.
And Target - my blue-eyed bay.

A lifetime worth living is metered out slowly,
By the wear on your saddle, good horses and a few head of cattle.
It was just last November I drove Dad’s rig home,
A day or two after the service,
When we gathered to recount, retell and relive a life well lived,
I had his truck and trailer - his horse and his well worn saddle.

Since I’ve had his horse Indy in my own herd,
He’s fattened up some and filled out his hide,
He’s got a barn, good feed and I do care for that horse,
Since Dad’s gone now and he just can’t.
But maybe there’s something he can do and I hope he does,
There where he rides beyond the great divide.

You see – I lost my Target three weeks ago today,
In a sudden wreck of crimson snow,
Left rear hock, compound break and rip,
So fast, so horrid, so hopeless,
Such wreckage,
Such sorrow,
I had to let him go.

So by some twist of fate I have Dad’s horse,
And I like to believe that he has mine.
Target always did have that fire in his belly,
I can almost see them both right now,
Charging through the canyons and hills of that celestial range,
And though worlds apart – horses are still the tie that binds.

So now, time moves on and scars the wounds,
Of such great loss and the price we’ve paid,
For wandering through this muddy vale of tears,
On horses - such good horses - all throughout the years . . .
So - when it comes my turn to reach up through that misty veil,
I’ll grasp Dad’s hand, we’ll hug and square the deal - on this,

The last horse trade.
free hit counter script

No comments:

Post a Comment