The Inward Range 3/30/06

The Inward Range 3/30/06

I rise up early like a rancher
With chores to do, my days work
Is on the inward range.
My dream rooster cock-a-doodles
Its nonsense over and over
Until I rub my eyes and get
Up to drink a cup of joe.

Soon begins the worried lowing-
Like cattle somber and practical,
Making lamentation over
My unchecked list. Old nagging
Heifers just need to be milked.

In my worn saddle-brain Ive learned
To retrieve straying calves of whim.
They jog aimlessly to thorny wishes
And stumble over jagged reminiscence.
Its easy to get lost out there in there.
In deep canyons where only howling
Coyotes of bitter longing find you.

At last, the routine takes control
With a rhythm all its own
I relax and let my horse
My galloping, knickering subself
Work the range of monotonous duty.
It feels good to accomplish through unity
Mind and body like a horse and rider.

Sometimes it becomes a regular
Cattle-drive. Livestock teeming
Across vast prairies. Making ground.
hardly a broken gait in the
forward herding rush of thought,
Of idea and motivation and conscious
Growth. A stampede of philosophy

That doesnt rest until it reaches
The next watering hole; a tank of
Murky liquid ideas that are soon
Sucked dry, down to a muddy
Bottom, mucked with the hoof-prints
Of my thirsty great beasts of burden;
Seventy head not a one lost.

Back in the bunk-house, dirty boots
Kicked off on the floor. Exhausted
I close my eyes, rest my dogs and
Sleep deep, for tomorrow is another
Long hard day on the inward range.

(c) Tasha Chinnock 2006