Bryce Angell

Cowboy Poetry

We pulled up to the country store to buy a soda pop.  We were hankerin’ for an Orange Crush, before our final stop.

With my father riding shotgun, I was stuck behind the wheel.  We’d been driving since near daylight.  Now a drink would be ideal.

Cowboy Poetry

Today I’m gonna teach you how to climb up on the saddle. You gotta do it right,  or Heaven knows what you might straddle.

Your left hand grabs the saddle horn. Your right hand grabs the seat. Put your left foot in the stirrup. Now pull up. Your mount’s complete.  

Cowboy Poetry

I opened up my pocket knife and cut a piece of cheese.  The blade was sharp enough to shave and sliced the cheese with ease.  

My good wife asked me, “Have you ever washed your knife with soap?”  I slightly hesitated, then I answered with a “Nope!”

Cowboy Poetry

The trailer door was latched down tight. Three horses were inside.  Each one of us was ready.  We were anxious for a ride.

But then I heard my cell phone ring.  ‘Twas Harley down the road.  “I heard we’ve got a ride today.  I’m saddled up to load.”

Our Pledge

When I was only six years old and barely in first grade, we stood and pledged allegiance to the flag before we prayed.  

And one of us would take a turn reciting The Lord’s Prayer.  We all were oh so innocent.  We didn’t have a care.  

Cowboy Poetry

I’ve always had to stretch my legs when climbing to the saddle.  And now my age is telling me, “Each time you’ll have a battle.”

You see I stand at five feet three, a product of my source.  So, tell me why I always seem to ride a danged tall horse.

More Information

The Madisonian

65 N. MT Hwy 287
Ennis, MT 59729

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