The Final Round Up

He leaned forward on his saddle,

Resting his arm on the horn,

And gazed at the land below.

The sun was setting orange in the western sky,

And in the east,
The full moon began to glow.

He watched contented cattle graze,
Horses nurturing their colts,

And then looked to his calloused hands.

In sixty five years of labor, sweat, and tears

He had touched every inch

Of this land.

He had built bridges and fences,

Barns and a home,

And a family who loved him dear.

He looked again o’er the land

 With a smile, then sighed,

And reigned his old horse to the rear.

 And as they walked quietly home

He remembered lean times,

Happy abundance, and drought.

“We’ve seen it all Ol’ Buck”, He said,
As he patted the horse,

‘This is what our lives’ have been about.”

With Buck rubbed down in the barn,

The old cowboy pulled off his boots,

 Then reached for the Good Book by his bed.

Then he blew out the lamp

 When his reading was done.

He was just too tired to undress.

The rancher didn't rise
As usual with the sun,
So, the hired hand came to call.

Sometime during the night,

The final round up was called,

And the old rancher hung his spurs on the wall.


K.L. Dennie June 2012