the forever west

voices of the plains
drift across the bluffs
telling of sun-swept hillsides
grassy meadows
grama and curly mesquite
flowing into an opaque light

horsemen ride
into the forever west
rimmed by red
in the westerly light
mountain range
white tipped tops

the remuda, of horses
where cowboys choose
a horse to saddle and mount
to ride herd, to bond
with the brood
is nature in plain sight

a man no more than one
no better than any alive
be it only their horse
or the sweet grass
where the herd grazed

horsemen ride
into the forever west
seeking all the many deaths
on the far horizons
beneath the starlit many eyes
nothing gold has words

in the forever west

10-23-09
D.E. Clark