A Cowboy's Night

Painting by Bill Jaxon

A COWBOY'S NIGHT


Thankfully ... noisy orange flames of
the juniper fire die,
But, the glowing incandescence of
it seems to belie

The cool of the evening nearly
smothering its' warmth.
Those dying and protesting ashes
around his face swarms.

Infrequent erupting coals send
radiant meteors out,
As encroaching imminent night
grows edgy and stout.

Twilight's moist biting zephyr is
held partially in check
By the cowboy's old tarp and the
silken scarf 'round his neck.

Then, blackened sky comes alive
with numberless orbs of light,
Competing tolerably with swarms
of fire-flies in flight.

Eyes growing heavy with the burden
of the erstwhile day,
Grudgingly, to unerring slumber,
the wrangler gives way.

He remembers wondering as
consciousness fades so deep,
Why the wondrous beauty of God's
night is wasted on sleep.

© 6/98 All Rights Reserved * David Kelley