IT'S THE WIND
(C) Copyright 2017 by Bob Sampson

When you’re ridin’ at a gallop and you squint so you can see

And a tear forms in the corner of your eye,

Your hat brim bends and shirt sleeves flap. You’re proud as you can be,

In glory as your whole world rushes by.

 

‘Tain’t the speed that gets you.  It’s the wind.

 

When breeze is blowin’ at your back, it’s such an easy ride.

It makes you want to wander and to roam.

But then you face a bitter wind, head bowed to keep in stride,

When you must push against it coming home.

 

‘Tain’t the road that gets you.  It’s the wind.

 

When you’re dozin’ in your saddle as the evening sun goes down

And the lazy shadows lengthen into night,

A sudden twitch of nostrils or an unfamiliar sound

Can turn a magic moment into flight.

 

‘Tain’t the herd that gets you.  It’s the wind.

 

Deep in the white of winter, when there’s frost out on the ground,

The chill can eat right through your heavy clothes.

You think you’ll freeze right there and never even make a sound,

As numbness slowly creeps into your toes.

 

‘Tain’t the cold that gets you.  It’s the wind.

 

Or when the lightning flashes and there’s dust in every drop

That bites the hide of rider and his mount.

You need to find some shelter but you know you just can’t stop.

You curse more times than you could ever count.

 

‘Tain’t the storm that gets you.  It’s the wind.

 

When desert sun’s a blazin’ and the sweat runs down your neck,

It dries and cracks on every inch of skin.

Your eyes blur and you lose the trail. You really are a wreck.

The cry to quit comes loudly from within.

 

‘Tain’t the heat that gets you.  It’s the wind.

 

This world’s a constant struggle as the winds of fortune blow

And try to turn you from your life-long climb.

Lean hard against their force or else they’ll never let you go.

One slip and you’ll regret it for all time.

 

‘Tain’t your luck that gets you.  It’s the wind.

 

Your trail has turns to right or wrong.  We always have to choose.

I’ve wandered down a path with no good end.

How long till someone stops me and I have to pay my dues?

It’s ruin that I’ve courted for a friend.

 

‘Tain’t your life that gets you.  It’s the wind.

 

It’s never been my fault. No!  It’s the wind!

© 2017 by Bob Sampson

This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.