Bivouac

Walking, crossing the flat plains
The checkered clouds warp across the wild skies
I feel confident when I’m saddled
My gun is tapered to my side
The wispy sand settles behind
Hooves beating into the hollow earth

Bivouacking nights away, restless mornings of coffee
Ah, those slow, cold mornings of hard stone and sodden fires
The suns gaze only ceases in the dank, beer-smelling rooms that hold our souls apart
The booming rhythm of whisky and beers, slumping towards lost meadows
All victimized by chemical reactions and slow nights

My tired horse trotting on through the balky crags and weeping pines
Leads through soulish, encumbering woods
His poisoning heart hugging the dirt
There’s mud on my old boots
In an instant all pain, expelled
Leather carrying me, I journey on to conquer the sun