Riding into life’s sunset,
he watches the early morning kiss the sky
and ponders the warrior question,
“Is today a good day to die?”
Riding the prairie,
death is not a stranger to old cowboys,
a companion not a friend.
Niobrara fossils etch death over millions of years,
bleached Bison bones reflect greed.
Below Sand Creek earth
Arapahoe children’s bones bear hate,
while above— the hawk, the rabbit, the snake
dance in circles of prey.
Hunters prey on pheasant, quail, antelope and deer,
the flooded arroyo and the prairie fire cause wide-spread fear.
Occasionally he rides like the wind just to remember,
but mostly he walks his horse pausing often,
finding comfort in tumbleweed solitude,
watching prairie dogs rise erect
then dive fearing the hawk’s shadow.
He has no fear of life’s sunset,
today just wasn’t a good day to die.
Jeral Williams is retired Professor of Psychology and late-in-life poet. He was raised in the West and now lives in the South. His love for the West has never waned.