The Cowboy
To be the sand under his spur.
To feel him dismount onto earth.
Dig a hole within our core,
establish space wherein we’re sure,
he lives.
To be the water inside his tin.
To douse all of where he’s been.
Drench his soul with our drips,
enlivening sand-dry lips,
he lives.
To be the fire under his hands.
To feel him stop our expanse.
Hum a tune to our flight,
ensuring use of warmth tonight,
he lives.
Meandering
The lackadaisical way in which
he meanders through the land
is mesmerizingly beautiful
as you watch each step through sand.
All four hooves slowly drift
into each newfound place.
The cowboy travels as though without
a thought to mimic our rude haste.
Pure, simplistic time he’s found
without searching for its air.
In awe of all he has to feel
we can’t help but stare.
Alyssa has a Master’s Degree in English from Northwestern State University. She is a Preschool Teacher for the United States Army, receiving the “Passionate Poet” Award in August 2018. Alyssa lives in the Poconos with her husband, Shawn, and their two boys, 4-year-old Jett and 9-year-old Layton.