The Cowboy

Ruddy from Montana winds he straddles his painted pony and braces against the cold.

He cups his hand to light a cigarette, inhales and clenches his chiseled jaw.

I now search the leathered folds of my father’s face for that young cowboy

on a drive to Pocatello, his agate eyes gazing, big sky and life before him.

Emily Florence

 

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