George M. Noblitt

THE TRAILBUM

 

Too many days in a saddle

Weary from the trail

I ride atop the high ridge

I watch the eagle sail

 

Winters cold unforgiving wind

Stings the naked face

Makes comfort only a memory

Encouraging your pace

 

Turning down from the knoll

To the basin far below

Dreams of spring's warm secrets

Where grasslands still roll

 

A slight discomfort in my chest

A shortness of breath

Could this be the trailrider

Known only as death

 

Severe the pain has now become

From beneath my vest

I dismount for the last time

I've trailed with the best

 

The beauty of the hills and plain

I could not take with me

But it shall live forever

In someone's memory