Rustling Up Some Courage
The Old West didn’t reward hesitation—it honored those who acted with purpose.
In a dust-lit ring where legends thrive,
She mounts her steed, both bold and alive.
The crowd holds breath as she takes her stand,
A whirlwind of grace, a command of the land.
With a kick of hooves, they surge forth fast,
Around the barrels, a dance unsurpassed.
Her heartbeats echo, a rhythmic song,
In the heat of the chase, where few belong.
The sun sets low, casting shadows long,
Each turn she takes, adds to her song.
With whip of her reins, and a steer of her gaze,
She flows like the river, through the evening haze.
At the end of the race, with ribbons unfurled,
She stands as a symbol, a queen in this world.
With courage and skill, she writes her own tale,
A master of barrels, destined to prevail.
Copyright © 2024 Randy Salars
All rights reserved
All rights reserved