The Prairie’s Silent Guardian: A Stand of Cottonwoods Against the Sky

A cowboy’s trust in his horse is as deep as the canyons they ride.

Beneath the vast expanse, winds sigh,

Where cottonwoods stand tall, reaching high.

Their leaves like whispers, soft and sweet,

Guard secrets of the prairie™s heartbeat.

In summer™s haze, they cast a shade,

Where weary travelers seek refuge made.

With roots like bones that grip the ground,

These silent sentinels, steadfast, abound.

As storms approach, their branches sway,

Protecting life, come what may.

With every crack of thunder™s roar,

They hold the promise of hope once more.

When dusk descends, and stars align,

The prairie glows, a rare design.

These cottonwoods, against the sky,

Stand firm as dreams that never die.