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.”

Henry shot a look at me and gave a sheepish smile.  I got back on the phone and said, “We’ll be there in a while.”

Well most of us knew Harley was no rocket scientist.  And when you were around him, well your patience was a must.

And just to say a word or two ‘bout Harley and his horse. Old Harley called him Hurricane.  He was a threatening force.

When we pulled into the yard we noticed Harley was a sight.  It looked like Hurricane had really given him a fight. 

Harley had a bloodied nose, his left eye swollen shut.  And just below the hairline showed a nasty two-inch cut.

It looked like Hurricane had won.  Old Harley said, “Not so!  ‘Cuz Hurricane’s the one who has the saddle on, ya know.”

I opened up the trailer gate and Hurricane looked in.  He blew a snort and pulled straight back, kicked Harley in the shin.

That’s when we knew how Hurricane received his rightful fame.  I’ve had a few like him before.  Now Elmer’s is their name.

The horses gave that look to me.  “Don’t put him in here please!”  Just then the Hurricane jumped in and landed with such ease.  

We worked on Harley, patched him up.  He still had one good eye.  We knew he’d have a good old time.  He’s just that kind of guy. 

So, when it comes to ridin’, we’ll include most anyone.  Our ride’s a mix of cowboys.   That’s the recipe for fun.