……over the edge

 

riding out, 
on Matt's quarterhorse,
Marky's pinto and
cool Luke's thoroughbred,
towards the house of John's good cheer,
hear only our loose laughing tongues
and horse breath in still, hot air.

Then startled,
sudden prancing,
the horses turn a kick,
no one fell, know calming tricks,
check out fetlock or missing shoes.
But, then on the trail
comes around a guy with a gun,
slowly smiling, but with no fun
any horsesense can smell.

He offers g'ddays and asks the ways
to 'Peter's Grand Gatehouse',
he's "following father, as any good son",
looks worried tho, just like those folk
whose trigger finger,
will soon see them done.
To lengthen wear of his saddle
we tell him ride 'westward
keep following the sun',
and,
on his calm, fine, snowflake Appaloosa
to the frontier of the horizon,
can hear fading...
his sprinting horse's foot fall,
drum an' a drum,
	drum an' a drum,
		drum an' a drum.

dwk