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Cowboy Dance

Dusty, tattered, stretched denim. Sundried, desert etched skin. Sand blown, chapped lips – bleed. Sweat-stained, shredded Stetson sways back. Frayed riata strands drag behind a bull legged – limp.

Adonia is loose; white frame racing; black spots prancing; ‘cross green prairies – grassy.

The cowboy spits, sips beer, hears the Appaloosa’s laugh, as sun sets, red.

“Tomorrow, again, my beautiful senorita; tomorrow, we dance – once more.”

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9 thoughts on “Cowboy Dance

  1. haha…it takes a bit to break a horse….we have a few corrals nearby….it is a dance…really great descriptions in this…i like all the texture and grit…and i am leaving with a smile….cool verse man…

  2. I love the patience and sense of time passing in your poem. Perhaps it is the longer lines that did it, but I really felt I was suspended in this scene – love it!

  3. Ah, I love this! It’s probably not surprising to know that I cut my teeth on westerns, and still watch them (when the kids let me control the remote). Great visual writing, like a scene lifted straight from film.

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