Skies of Gallatin Man © R. Leschen (31 May 2007)
At the end of a
Twisted winds and ruby rainbows rip the desert clean,
From the dust comes a ragged cowboy who shook his shirt to the wind,
A silver heart and lips like
leather he was passing through
And I wondered where he had been.
He used to be an east coast trader hustling ‘round the town,
By candlelight he shuffled paper his mind mostly in the ground,
With a gaze fixed on freedom he swapped his suit for a vest
Kicking off his velvet slippers, he made his way out west,
Was off like the Pony Express.
“Why” I asked, “you rode along to this land of the sulfide air?”
Without words he pointed eastward, was a pain to deep to share,
Then he flipped back his yellow hair.
Nine parts coffee and one part cream I believe in the cowboy dream,
Ely works the station kitchen ensconced in liberty,
Here I sit at
The grass is green the horses lean you can hang your hat on the wind,