The Keeper of the Herd: A Cowboy’s Sacred Duty to His Charges

The Old West taught us that persistence often unearths the greatest treasures.

In dawns embrace, the cattle low,

As morning light begins to flow.

The keeper stands with watchful eyes,

A guardian neath the endless skies.

Through dust and sweat, the trail winds thin,

Each hoofprint tells the tales within.

He guides them close, through thickets bare,

His whispers weave the morning air.

The prairie sings, a symphony,

Of hooves that thunder wild and free.

With lassos twirl and heart of trust,

He leads them forth, in him they rust.

As sunset bleeds the sky to red,

With every step, his spirits fed.

For in this bond, both strong and pure,

The keeper finds his hearts allure.