Let’s make it cowboyish, a new year in rugged boots, worn by the unpretending veteran. ¿Why get a new pair, why negate time?
Let’s listen to coarse voices, singing out of raw soul, their age-old adages, tried and true, weathered as their ol’ boy hat, drawling a six-string how they should.
Let’s think of sunsets melting to dusk, far away horizons yet to reach, riding relentless, quiet missions covered in hide, a lonely fire through the night, early risings at dawn break, a horse fully rested.
Let’s ride on, seasoned in snow and rain, tanned by the Sun’s stare, face jagged from the dry wind, and our form austere and strong, our senses attuned to the changing land.
Let’s trust the fire of the mane, instinct tamed just right, and gallop with what we already learned; now pick up the pace, kick up some dust, commit to the road, unafraid.
Let’s believe in the open country, the wisdom of the millennial range, that the going will shed all that’s not basic, and leave us true, sealed in our own name.
Let’s listen to their veteran lyrics, when they honor passing days, until the Great Divide.
Let’s be like this, full-time, well-tanned riders, weatherbeaten, skilled, and ongoing, the lonely fire from dusk to dawn.
