a bit ago i was on a training for work and my co-staff decided she wanted to do a sunrise ceremony for the crew. we woke them early and climbed up on top of the bench, dodging prickly pear and juniper, to gaze out over the henry mountains. we stood in silence as the sun rose orange and pink over the blue peaks and dusty grey cliffs. a line came to my head.
the silence of the sunrise was the only glaring sound...i could almost hear it...the low sizzle of the sun grating against the reef, the swish of its rays cutting through the wind, the hum of its warmth pressing on my face. it was thundering in my ears without making a sound.
closing my eyes i wondered who would be out here...who would see such a sight before the machines came out to grade the roads. before there was pavement and bed and breakfasts and ranches and atv's out here in this wild landscape. i thought of the native people, the settlers, the cowboys.
cowboy.
what an amazing icon - the hero and villian of the west. tough and kind and wild and tamed all at the same time. how many had been right where i was? how many had seen the sunrise like i had?
i am no cowboy.
who am i?
what ties me to this image? i see him there - dusty, strong. what i feel is a yearning. i want him. i want him with me.
the silence of the sunrise was the only glaring soundhe stands there on the mesa with the sagebrush all aroundhis feet are shod in leather like the skin upon his faceunnaturally fitting is his presence in this placeoh cowboylonely creature of the plainsi dream you in this dusty windswept dawni long to hold your calloused hand and hear your voice againyou whispering my namepress against your solid framebut i've lost you to this lonely road you're onmy tears they fall like raindrops on the shattered desert groundarresting dusty hoofbeats as the cattle mill aroundmy breaths like gentle breezes ruffling his feathered hairwet with sweat beneath the stetson i gave him to always wearoh cowboy
lonely creature of the plains
i dream you in this dusty windswept dawn
i long to hold your calloused hand and hear your voice again
you whispering my name
press against your solid frame
but i've lost you to this lonely road you're onthe night it falls with whispers of the stars far overheadthere's a blanket for his pillow and another for his bedby the campfire he lies quiet with an aching in his bonesand he knows it's my heart calling telling him to come back homeoh cowboy
lonely creature of the plains
i dream you in this dusty windswept dawn
i long to hold your calloused hand and hear your voice again
you whispering my name
press against your solid frame
but i've lost you to this lonely road you're on