leanin' H
Well-known member
I wrote this a few years back. Thought i'd share it with y'all
The Monument
I was riding across the desert
on a windswept, winter day,
minding my own p's and q's
as i went along my way.
When i noticed, there, a monument
on a ridgetop, made of stone.
Probably built by a lonely sheepherder,
out here wanderin' the desert alone.
I got to wonderin' why he did it?
Stackin' rocks on other rocks?
Maybe built it out of boredom,
or to chase away homesick thoughts.
It could of been used as a target, i guess
sighting in an old thirty thirty,
cause if a guy has enough prime coyote hides,
he can buy gifts for his girl, so purty.
Maybe it's way more simple than that,
he just did it as some joke.
To cause people who see, to scratch their heads
and confuse one simple cowpoke!
Or maybe, just maybe,
he wanted the whole world to know,
that one rock stackin' sheepherder,
on that ridge, plainly seen from below,
had left his own small legacy.
A sign, to show that he'd been.
A silent reminder of one man's life,
standing there in the sun and the wind.
His own little way of saying,
that i was here on the earth.
I might of been just a shepard,
but i had pride and i had worth.
So then i started wondering,
what'll i leave when i go?
I ain't never built a pile of rocks
to stand in the December snow.
I've never been very famous,
most folks don't know i exist.
Power and wealth have passed me by,
and friends? Well, that's a short list.
I've never been elected
and served my fellowman.
Except for maybe sharing my campfire,
and the coffee i boiled in a can.
I guess, i hope my own little ranch i build
will continue when i die,
and folks will kinda remember me,
when they look my kids in the eye.
And if my kids continue on
with these cows and piece of land,
when i die, a part of me still lives,
out here with the sage and the sand.
And though i've never been wealthy
or known by folks, far and near,
i'd like to think God knows who i am,
cause he's blessed my life, that much is clear.
Me and that lonely sheepherder
have something in common it's true,
living life out here on the west desert
under western skies of deep blue.
The milky way acts as our nightlight,
rough granite peaks, a church steeple.
A soft summer rain a baptism,
out here far from the masses of people.
And we both will leave our small legacy,
when we pass from this land so rough.
A pile of stones or a ranch for my kids,
for each of us, it is enough.
leanin' H
2012
The Monument
I was riding across the desert
on a windswept, winter day,
minding my own p's and q's
as i went along my way.
When i noticed, there, a monument
on a ridgetop, made of stone.
Probably built by a lonely sheepherder,
out here wanderin' the desert alone.
I got to wonderin' why he did it?
Stackin' rocks on other rocks?
Maybe built it out of boredom,
or to chase away homesick thoughts.
It could of been used as a target, i guess
sighting in an old thirty thirty,
cause if a guy has enough prime coyote hides,
he can buy gifts for his girl, so purty.
Maybe it's way more simple than that,
he just did it as some joke.
To cause people who see, to scratch their heads
and confuse one simple cowpoke!
Or maybe, just maybe,
he wanted the whole world to know,
that one rock stackin' sheepherder,
on that ridge, plainly seen from below,
had left his own small legacy.
A sign, to show that he'd been.
A silent reminder of one man's life,
standing there in the sun and the wind.
His own little way of saying,
that i was here on the earth.
I might of been just a shepard,
but i had pride and i had worth.
So then i started wondering,
what'll i leave when i go?
I ain't never built a pile of rocks
to stand in the December snow.
I've never been very famous,
most folks don't know i exist.
Power and wealth have passed me by,
and friends? Well, that's a short list.
I've never been elected
and served my fellowman.
Except for maybe sharing my campfire,
and the coffee i boiled in a can.
I guess, i hope my own little ranch i build
will continue when i die,
and folks will kinda remember me,
when they look my kids in the eye.
And if my kids continue on
with these cows and piece of land,
when i die, a part of me still lives,
out here with the sage and the sand.
And though i've never been wealthy
or known by folks, far and near,
i'd like to think God knows who i am,
cause he's blessed my life, that much is clear.
Me and that lonely sheepherder
have something in common it's true,
living life out here on the west desert
under western skies of deep blue.
The milky way acts as our nightlight,
rough granite peaks, a church steeple.
A soft summer rain a baptism,
out here far from the masses of people.
And we both will leave our small legacy,
when we pass from this land so rough.
A pile of stones or a ranch for my kids,
for each of us, it is enough.
leanin' H
2012