The Grass Beneath His Boots: A Connection to the Land’s Soul

It wasn’t the land that made cowboys—it was their untamed spirit.

Upon the plains where wildflowers sway,

He treads the path of the break of day.

Each blade of grass, a whispering tale,

Of countless dreams that will never pale.

With every step, the earth responds,

A vibrant pulse beneath his ponds.

The spirit of the land runs deep,

In sacred soil, their secrets keep.

The sun-drenched trails, the thunders roar,

In distant hills where eagles soar.

He feels the heartbeat, strong and true,

In every sunrise, his courage grew.

As twilight casts her purple hue,

The cowboy knows what he must do.

For in the grass beneath his boots,

Lies the lands soul, where freedom roots.