Hot breaths brush my cheek,Velvet ears caress my face,“Good morning, mama.”

She rests quietlyWith each long passing mileLove’s warm reminder.

Cooks behind counters,Calamity of voices:Breakfast is served, dear.

Thunder clouds roll inOff flat plains of a wild westHe takes sun bath naps.

Disturb not: her dreams. Though the cracking of thunderUnburdens the clouds.

The show is overFolks, it’s time to go home now,We’ll see you next year!

Old friends reuniteOver grapefruit mint julepsLaughter ringing out!

Live music, guitar“Lovin’ you is what I got.”A Wyoming bar.

Sweat drips down my side.You’ll find salvation in me,Like a desert well.