by Mark Munzert
When I cross over and then come back
Gonna be a bronco with rider on back.
Waitin’ in a chute with a smiling heart,
‘This poke won’t finish, he’ll barely start.’
Back ta the ranch, a parcel, my own.
Buff, tough, buckin’ horse, handsome and roan.
Withers to haunch, big, full and round.
Likely the strongest pound for pound.
Eyes… deep, lively, telling.
People? Some close. Others, I send yelling.
I move pure, regal, honest and true.
Knowin’ cow-folk turn for a view.
The Mares love me an’ the fillies flirt.
Foals look up. ‘Howdy Squirt’.
Ain’t jus’ brawn but whole lotta head.
Out brain ya, toss ya, leave ya fer dead.
Snort, stomp, buck, an’ prance.
Spur cowboy? Tain’t even a chance.
I worked a few seconds. You was beat.
Run along buckaroo. Go have a seat.
Kicked up my heels, all ornery an’ mean.
Dang, that was fun, good an’ clean.
All done here, another go.
Off to my custom trailer tow.
Another stop, another win.
Why, ya’ never see’d a horse grin?
Onto lush grass, cool water, an’ grain.
Rough Stock life? Naw, gravy train.
When I cross over and then come back
Gonna be a bronco, NO rider on back.
Mark Munzert has been branded ‘the Cowboy Poet of the Northeast’ as his present home is in upstate New York’s Mountains region. The ranch-hand, descendant of horse-folk, cow-losopher performs regularly at Western events, dude ranches, and many Cowboy Gatherings. Contact him at 315-480-7586 or markmunzert@gmail.com.
