Night Camp

The mesquite fire crackles and pops

And smoke rises in the air

Along the brush, a rabbit hops.

Over the mountains, the sun sets fair.

I stir the beans in the old iron pot

And give the biscuits a lid.

I then turn up my tin coffee cup

And take a good long sip.

The horses are hobbled, mules are tied

And blankets are spread around.

Tomorrow brings a new days’ ride

But tonight we camp on the ground.

A calming sound comes from the creek,

As it gurgles its way south.

It nearly lulls me off to sleep

 As I brush the crumbs from my mouth.

I fold my hands behind my head
And relax in the embers glow.
Then pop the dust from my hat,
And tip it over my nose.