Monday, June 23, 2008


The old Texican has mounted up and ridden west. I'll be on autopost for a few days so you'll be on your own. I thought you might like to see a few of my poems again.


High atop the mesa
cowboys sit in restful pose
and watch the sun
slide down the western sky.

Purple, pink, golden hues
bleak and rugged scenes
in ever changing show
from dusk to night.

In saddles, worn.
On ponies, tired.
They sit in awe as stars appear
and know,
why they,
are richer than most men.