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Short Timer
by Jackie Moranty
copyright 09-27-2001


Age Rating: 10 to 127

 
Her hair is long and getting gray,
Her feet are callused and rough,
Her shoulders are sore and beginning to stoop,
From years of living tough.

Her chore list is long and time is short,
She works through the heat of the day,
Running cattle and breaking colts,
Fencing and putting up hay.

Rarely does she get to bed early,
And mostly she's up before dawn,
Getting things ready and anaimls fed,
Saddling up and moving along.

But times are a-changing,
Her ways are fading fast,
Most days she feels like,
She's living in the past.

She doesn't recall how it happened, or when,
But now she has lines around her eyes,
Every day brings thoughts of selling out,
A few years ago, she would have rather died.

She doesn't know if she can live in town,
Fences don't agree with her much,
Neither do people and traffic,
Or 7-11's and such.

She can't imagine a life without land,
Or cattle or horses or chores,
But the cold hard fact is: she's killing herself,
And just can't do it alone anymore.

So she finds herself a "town job",
Stops riding for the brand,
And wonders how long she'll hold out,
Without the help of a hand.

August, 2001


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05-14-2005 Anthony Lane Stahlhut    

I wonder sometimes about how my grandchildren will never get to experence the things we did when I was young. The hay rides and the big sales that people came from all around to see. I remember going hunting and the rabbits and pheasants were plentiful. My grandchildren won't get to do that at all. This is a sad poem about changes that you are forced to make, sometimes I wonder if we are better or worse off with all the change, Anthony
10-07-2001 Mary -BrytEyz- Ball    

It's hard to give up what we hold so dear, especially when we're alone and it's all we've got. :)
09-29-2001 Jackie Moranty    

Thanks again, all of you for your kind words.

First, let me apologize sincerely to Robert. I don't know why I thought you were David. I was reading through both of your works and must have skipped from one author to another without my brain moving with me. Please accept my apologies.

Bev, if you could hear me tell these stories you would laugh. I've spent so much time on the rodeo circuit and so much time on ranches gone from Texas to Montana and all across the country east and west that I now have a twang in my voice that changes depending on which state line I cross!

I'm glad to see you here, too, Kelly. I haven't been to your page yet, but I'll make my rounds eventually.

Jackie
09-29-2001 Beverley McInnis    

Jackie, welcome to MLM!! Glad to see your writing here! It's true, cowboy (or in your case, cowgirl) poetry is best heard live in person. Still since we can't hear you weave the stories, we'll have to settle for reading. I enjoyed this poem and echo what others have to say - sad when farmers have to go for the "town job" to survive. More than financial, its a sad statement on a wonderful way of life.
09-27-2001 Betty Eskdale    

Terrific! and sad too. Hard to give up what we love but life changes our abilities and it's wise to recognize when the time comes.
Visitor Reads: 408
Total Reads: 559
Comments: 5

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