Got a Question? Ask A COWBOY POET!
JUly 2024
Our planet Earth boasts lots of treasured places. Choosing just one favorite spot might pose a challenge to some folks, but this month’s question leads to an easy conclusion for the poets:
“Where is your favorite place on Earth?”
~ Anonymous
Bill lowman:
Good question and easy to reply to. My favorite place of being is right where I am, on my beautiful ranch at home. It’s secluded deep in the rough and rugged Little Missouri River Badlands. Our nearest neighbor is five miles away, the rest are 20. Ranchers and cowboys don’t “pleasure ride,” we ride to take care of business, but at the same time, if you learn to program your mind, every job is enjoyable with your favorite horse and cow dog at its heels. We don’t ride in miles and miles of flat, sage-smothered deserts. Our terrain is constantly interesting. You can use up a grain-fed horse in a mile if you don’t know how to ride it to get past hogback ridges, deep canyons, and side draw washes and headwalls. The calving and branding season, haying, fall roundups and calf shipping are always looked forward to. Long cold winters are judged on how well you prepare for them. By far and away, what makes home so special is a loving family and oncoming generations to continue it. JoAnn and I are truly blessed.
dick gibford:
I am not a world traveler and have never wanted to see or visit faraway places. I have been located my whole life right here in the West, so as I answer your question, you will only receive a limited perspective, for my worldview has been formed by the places my work as a cowboy has taken me. I like to say my favorite place to be is in the saddle looking out between a horse's ears. Now that I am in my mid-70s, I feel very blessed and proud to still be able to do my cowboy job on the ranch here. It's the life I was meant to live, and it's a good one.
Here is a little poem I wrote to go with this month's answer. Thank you kindly, Anonymous!
I have never been to Europe, I have only traveled the west.
It's where my saddle stirrup seems to fit my boot the best.
And my favorite place on earth is right here where I am at,
Right here on this outfit, where I have come home to hang my hat.
I am sitting in the shade of this line shack, watching my ponies swishing flies,
High up in these mountains, my place on earth that takes first prize.
We have rode our morning circle, and peace surrounds us here,
This is our slice of heaven, where God is always near.
yvonne hollenbeck:
My favorite place on Earth is “home.” No, it’s not a big, fancy house, just a comfortable ranch house on a beautiful ranch, where I enjoy four seasons, and whenever I look out a window, I see nature at its finest. I love being home and feel like it’s the closest thing to heaven here on earth.
dw groethe:
Well, this is gonna be a short one. I have been to and carried on in more places than I can remember and have enjoyed them all for one reason or another. But...I was born and raised in the Badlands country of the western Dakotas and eastern Montana, sometimes referred to as West River country. For me, the combination of buttes and grasslands will always make me feel at home. I never tire of living in and being a part of it. If you're familiar with my poetry and music at all, you'll know how often I write about it. I guess that pretty much sums it up right there. Ta daa.
Thanks for asking,
dw
Annie mackenzie:
My favorite place is the horizon, between my horse’s ears,
Cattle strung out ahead, across western frontiers,
There I speak multiple languages that have no words,
I listen to the chatter of the inhabitants of earth,
The wind howls to the grass, and sighs to the trees,
I can hear all its secrets whispered on the breeze,
The brook babbles in the draw, the river answers with a roar,
Eagles scream out their freedom, claiming the skies they soar,
I guide my horse down the trail with a touch of rein and spur,
We discuss our goals and destination, passing them on to the herd,
A cow calls to her calf, beckoning him to her side,
He finds his way back, her voice his only guide,
A whistle and gesture sends border collies racing toward the pair,
The dogs tell them where to go with a look, a nip here and there,
Unrelated creatures, their native tongue the only language they speak,
But they communicate clearly, that's the beauty of pressure and release,
There in my favorite place all inhabitants talk freely, and I finally feel heard,
We have full conversations, though none of us have spoken a single word.
