Drivin’ through the mountains in the desert Southwest,
A lil’ bit tired and a long way off from lookin’ my best.
I stopped at a diner settin’ ‘longside the road,
To graze on some fixin’s before the day grew too old.
I parked my outfit right in front of the place,
Brushed myself off and wiped the sweat from my face.
I had twenty bucks in my pocket an’ a half tank of fuel,
Haulin’ four head behind, three horses, an’ one ol’ mule.
I reckon it was the owner that smiled an’ welcomed me in,
An’ most everyone else was most likely a friend or next of kin.
I settled at a table keepin’ to myself, ’cause that was just my way,
But not so far that I couldn’t hear what all the other folks had to say.
Some were troubled, their patience wearin’ a bit thin,
Others seemed grateful for all the wonderful places they’ve been.
They talked of different jobs an’ all the things they’ve done,
But there was no mention of cowboyin’, guess I was the only one.
At one time or another I’ve surely thought ’bout quitin’
But other than steady pay, no town jobs were quite rightly fittin’.
Always endin’ up doin’ what I do, prob’ly till the day I die,
An’ if you don’t understand, let me tell you all the reasons why.
I’ve called home almost everywhere across the Great Plains,
Where thousands of steer stretched over miles and miles of terrain.
The summer’s heat an’ winter snows, the bunkhouses an’ shacks,
Boilin’ coffee grinds, an’ makin’ do with whatever fit in our packs.
My boots been soaked with rain, an’ from my hat a bothersome drip,
Watchin’ the horse in front with the water rollin’ off the point of each hip.
At sundown my bones went to achin’ an’ my butt was draggin’
From movin’ cattle, shippin’, or just spendin’ the whole day brandin’.
I’d be willin’ to bet, ’cause I don’t think there’s a fella around,
Who sleeps better than a cowboy beneath the stars on the open ground.
Then I got to thinkin’ ’bout the good ol’ boys, an’ maybe it was just a hunch,
But I was sure hopin’ we wasn’t the last of that ol’ cow punchin’ grateful bunch.
Cowboyin’s hard work, long hours an’ broken bones,
It’s about a good cow horse an’ saddle maybe bein’ all he owns.
But wealth ain’t never yet measured what a man’s life is worth,
Some simply find their riches ridin’ the plains on God’s green earth.
I may have spent my last twenty bucks that day,
But I left that diner knowin’ there was somethin’ I needed to say,
I thanked the Lord for the blessings that come my way with each new dawn,
An’ prayed there would never come a day when cowboyin’ was forever gone.
The Diner ©2009
From her upcoming book Trail of Trials – A Collection of Western Folk Poetry
amyichi@yahoo.com