Dust Devil
Chaps that slap the saddle
Keep time to
The rhythm of
Low cattle calls
Rumble like thunder
From the throats of cowboys
And blend with
The moans of the herd
In the foggy dawn
The shadows of
Horses and man and cattle
Creep across the plains like
ghosts
But don’t rub yer eyes
To clear the vision
In a blink
Their gone
And all that is left
Is the echo
Of man and beast
And a dust devil
Kicking up the dirt…
Kendra Tyler
June 21, 1998
Copyright©1998
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