Black: Miserable |

Black: Miserable

Baxter Black

March came in like a lion and left the door open.

It's blowed like a banshee for weeks.

I saddle and ride like some kind of robot.

She builds up a temper and shrieks.

““My patience wears thin and my horse bears the brunt of frustration rubbin’ me raw. I’ve ground my poor teeth ‘til they’ve taken an edge. My reins hand is stiff as a claw.”

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The constant thrumming that grates on my skin

And pulls on my collar and coat.

Like an EPA leech that's hooked to my lungs

And blowin' its breath down my throat.

I squint through the haze for a sign of the bunch.

I'm s'posed to be checkin' the stock.

But great herds of sagebrush stampede through the dust

And often a cow is a rock.

My patience wears thin and my horse bears the brunt

Of frustration rubbin' me raw.

I've ground my poor teeth 'til they've taken an edge.

My reins hand is stiff as a claw.

And there ain't no relief in the bunkhouse at night.

It howls and the demons rave on.

It whistles and moans through the cracks in the wall

'Til all hope of sleepin' is gone

My ears ache like crazy. My hair even hurts.

The drumming plays on in my head.

It pounds until mornin'. It takes all my strength

To get up and git outta bed.

I'm dry as a mummy and I plan to get up, but

It's easy to rationalize.

And the horses need fed and walked to the creek

So I clean the dirt from my eyes.

And walk to the door. I hear the wind knockin',

I'm filled with a big dose of dread.

I sag in my boot tops, it's miserable out

Ya know, I could braid rawhide instead

The boss ain't comin' for a couple more days, but

The code says a cowboy should ride.

Come hell or high water, but I think today

I'll just be miserable…inside.❖