image

photo credit: tolbert

his cowboy hat dipped and curled
like a green montana blanket
draped over rolling hills,
celebrating the wind.

face craggy and used too often,
straight lines carved in crooked directions.
tanned skin stretched
like leather on a worn saddle.

his eyes spelled ‘yesterday’
in lower case sadness,
he was broken with no hope
and pulled his hat down.

sleep reminded him
that his body was eighty-four
yet when he dreamed
his mind romped on playgrounds.

where wild horses roamed…
and his hat was never too big.

© 2012, tolbert. All rights reserved.

tolbert (24 Posts)

Born in Virginia and raised in North Carolina, I have Southern roots that were extracted when I lived close enough to Berkeley in the late sixties and early seventies to taste the influences of the pursuit of freedom. As a student at San Jose State University I watched William Kuntsler expound on the values of free speech and he offered more education in an hour, on the lawn by the baseball diamond than most professors gave in a full semester. Married for thirty years, I have two grown daughters and three grandkids,..and two Boston Terriers.


2 Comments

  1. “his eyes spelled ‘yesterday’
    in lower case sadness,
    he was broken with no hope
    and pulled his hat down.”

    Tolbert, your use of imagery is simply remarkable. I love this poem!

  2. his cowboy hat dipped and curled
    like a green montana blanket
    draped over rolling hills,
    celebrating the wind.

    I guess there is a reason we love cowboys. :) This is really quite lovely. Awesome descriptives.

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