When the West Was Wild
It wasn’t the land that made cowboys—it was their untamed spirit.
In the dusty ring, where legends play,
With paint-smeared grins, they dance and sway.
Masters of mischief, heartbeats in time,
Their leaps and laughter, a wild mountain climb.
A flash of color, bold and bright,
As cattle charge, they face the fright.
With boots a-wobble, they zig and zag,
Like feathers they flit, a raucous drag.
Their antics weave a tapestry grand,
As children cheer and the adults stand.
They wrangle the wild with a wink and grin,
Turning chaos to joy, where life begins.
So heres to the clowns, with spirit so free,
Planting seeds of laughter beneath the sage tree.
For when the dust settles and silence is found,
Their humor lingers, echoing around.
Copyright © 2024 Randy Salars
All rights reserved
All rights reserved