Part of the Mare Herd at the 4DH Ranch in Oklahoma. For More Works by Debra Coppinger Hill Click Image.

Thursday, August 1, 2013


The rains this spring and summer have made for good grass this year. We find ourselves gathering bales and putting them in storage instead of scrambling for hay as we have the last few years. The pastures are full of round bales scattered across the land like buffalo grazing in the evening light.

 Buffalo Grass

The round bales stand, heavy and grand,
  it’s been a good year for hay.
Up the hill I walk, to sit on my rock,
  as master of all I survey.

It occurs to me, this used to be,
  part of the open plain;
Before you and me, before cattle was king,
  the royal Buffalo reigned.

Clouds edged with light, day eases to night,
  dusk plays tricks with my eyes;
Into visions I drift, shapes start to shift,
  Night-hawks sing a lullaby.

The moon rises low, shadows come and go,
  I see shaggy beasts in the haze.
They come as I sleep, give me knowledge to keep,
  I watch them content as they graze.

They ramble on in, I call them kin,
  I awake to find them not there;
But it’s not been a dream; I still feel the steam,
  of their sacred breath in the air.

The water still flows. The wind still blows.
  The bluestem waves tall and green.
And I see them each night, when the moon is just right,
  the Buffalo of my dreams.

I breathe a prayer, while I’m standing there
  and hope it’s not too late;
To save the earth, for what it’s worth,
  or we’ll suffer the very same fate.

I’ll heed their call…Pray for us all,
  ask God “Where do we go?”
When the moon is pale, I’ll stand near the bales,
and pretend...they’re Buffalo.

For more information on Debra Coppinger Hill go to AlwaysCowboy.com.

RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, News, Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html

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