Copyright ©2004 Cow Camp Missy

A true horseman cannot hope to learn all that there is to learn
about horses.
Not all, not ever, not in a lifetime
The things a horse knows about himself on day number one
Can take a man some 50 years to understand . . . and then some.

Therefore, why not be your horse's humble student?
Yes! Why not? Before your horse, why not be humble?
I know only that . . . "My honor is my horsemanship...
And because it is ..."
Go ahead, you can say it now. " Because it is...before my horse, it truly is my honor . . . to be humble."

Cow Camp Missy


Copyright ©2004 Cow Camp Missy

Belly deep in thick black muck, oh, yes, that's right
And to our ankles in it, and we are horseback through the night.

Some cried out for Mama, a couple more said "Yeah!"
Me, I just waited . . .my horse, he wanted hay.

He quickly took the shortest route, and right to harder ground
From the ridge I watched in awe, as the rest sank deeper down.

The swamps freeze up in winter, but now it's just a mess.
Mud belly-deep and sinking fast but then, I must confess . . .

For a second I was thinking, "Gee,it really is a pity
That I traded days in muck like this for clean life in the city!"

Cow Camp Missy


Copyright ©2004 Cow Camp Missy

Frosty breath, empty gun
Six moons more, then comes the sun . . .
By trap, or trick, or cold surprise
We'll get a meal before sunrise!

Cow Camp Missy


Copyright ©2004 Cow Camp Missy

Depending on the moon, Rain Rider guides his horse
In perfect light, in special moments, always . . .
Like all other gifts from nature. Perfect. All ways.

"Why?" the young man asked. "Why now? Why me?"

In hoof beats the answer came
Pounding thunder-feet below, lightening wild above,
The Viarsjnås re-filled herself from open skies
And through darkest darkness . . . they galloped on.

But the young man's coat could not serve him.
No, the young man's heart had un-nerved him.

Wet, torn threads flapped behind and
On he galloped ... wet and torn ... sweet gallop
Salty mix of sweat and tears.

A sudden slip, long slide, the struggle up
White knuckles grip slippery reins,
Rain Rider presses on . . .
Stride after stride, changing on the inside.

Cow Camp Missy


Copyright ©2004 Cow Camp Missy  

No one knows exactly where Snow Rider's horse can go,
They saddle fast and disappear in prime-time winter snow

Through deep drifts, across the ice to a camp not very near
They stop to rest the horses, drink full-up and give a cheer!

"Bravo, Horses! Bravo, Men! Hooray, and snap that quirt!"

Whiskey flows down throats and beards and, finally, to the dirt
As thoughts are formed from words that seek to heal whatever hurts
Drawn to light and fire silent dwellers from the wood
Witness broken dreams repaired and turned around for good

Such mysteries Snow Rider hopes soon to understand ...
But that comes with experience . . . and rarely to a man.

Cow Camp Missy