Lowing of the ages

Ancient whispers reverberate 

through the valleys beyond description. 

Saddlesore and invigorated 

reins and stirrup sunsets . 

Praying to the fire before the lowing dawn .

Smoke rises on an early 

morning snow . 

Hoof tracks coerced in the 

silence beneath the winds .

There is a trust inherent 

between the horses  and

Their cattle . 

Those ancient spirits guide us , 

So strong and unwavering 

we drop to our knees in awe . 

And weep .

This land cannot be taken . 

This land unyielding and 

relentless.

This land that cannot be 

controlled. 

The hours hold no mercy 

for the profound soul 

of another age .

The duel between land and Skies .

Freedom in tears and brambles , the thistle and the thorns .

Ridges and thunderheads 

Collide, beautifully deep 

beyond words . 

Casting the dreams that 

whisper in your eyes . 

Hard work and long days

honor in the wind runners,

depth in the spurs and the saddles. 

In the feathers and the ropes.

Pilippa smiles , she’s home

on the range .

It seems there is only the skies above and the earth in your toes.

The open range , the one you love .

Dreams filled with Prairie stars .

The big skies seemingly dancing with the virgin land 

creeping on forever .

Maybe this land defeats us .

This Savage land whose 

music forever haunts us . 

Or maybe it defines us .

This vast landscape 

of dust , time and heart . 

Boundless energy,

romance and danger .

Never wanting to leave it 

to never say goodbye.

If there is a judgment 

at the end of this trail .

Know it’s to follow your Lodestar.

Take risks and begin anew.

Know this land fills your heart

and sears your soul 

to those ancient whispers.