Saddle sores
are saddle kisses
Permanent fixtures
on bruised and battered legs
She tells folklore of swishin’ tales
and a thousand near-misses
That come characteristic of
hard hooves kickin’ and
Women tougher than nails
Slingin’ bales and eatin’ dirt
You can tell by the way she walks
that it’s in her bones
The swing of her hips forever marked
by open range and a ranchy roan
The Wild West was sewn
into the very threads of her
tied like fairy knots in
tangled manes with
brambles and burrs
There’s always a little hay in her hair,
and
the sun’s been a little to kind to her skin,
The wind’s carved smile lines like
sand in the canyon
She comes with her own brand of warning
so I hope you dare try,
But you can’t hurt a woman who’s built from
the hardest of nights
and the softest of mornings
And I promise you this:
She’ll make your cowboy ass cry.
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