The white of hair and slowness of step crept in year upon year.
Active nimble fingers now only settle in his lap - his mind tending towards reflection -
a longing for days past riding the range, pushing cattle through dust clouds,
a lifetime of memories, bright as a hot iron sunrise.
Then, in that growing light, falls reality.
He first moves to the edge of the pens,
then to drifting along as a summer's cloud, half dozing in the truck.
The gentle strumming of guitar and lyrical words on the radio
remain as an afterimage of a life now faded.
Silhouetted in the red-burnished glow of the setting sun lopes the herd of wild mustangs -
the old and the young strung out as a ribbon tying him to them.
Stallion gives way to colt as if passing a torch;
embers of power endow the next generation.
Even though his thoughts drift,
the herd never goes unattended - if only in his dreams.
