MIKE MOUTOUX
Pinos Altos, New Mexico
About Mike Moutoux
Mike Moutoux's web site
Headin' Home
Six miles out give or take, and we let the horses walk
Enjoyin' the company of each other, neither known for idle talk
The scenery magnificent, far off mountains softly lit
If Heaven is a place I'm sent, I hope this looks like it
The grass is only pastern-high, but showin' signs of greenin'
A breeze has every cloud a-movin' every blade of grass a leanin'
This is the time and space where thoughts are free to roam
Ours' turn to a special place, you see, we're headin' home
Five miles out, give or take, we hit a level spot
Put some weight into the stirrups and then ease into a trot
I catch my partner's eye and we both begin to smile
She nudges her horse, I cluck to mine, and we lope them for a while
We call it the old wagon road, no doubt used by pioneers
It starts somewhere outside of town and crosses way up here
We plan to follow it someday just to see where it might go
The horses sense it's not today, they know we're headin' home
Four miles out, give or take, we finally hit the top
We see our valley down below and bring the horses to a stop
Spread out below before our eyes is everything we know and love
One good reason to make this ride, is to see this valley from above
Something always gets to me, seein' the ranch, our home our life
Makes me thankful for who I am, the children and my wife
Up here I've come to understand what is known by all who roam
It's nice to visit foreign lands, but there's nothin' like headin' home
Three miles out we find a cow motherin' a day old calf
Knobby knees and spindly legs--we both begin to laugh
"Another hundred just like this, we might be in the black," I say
"I don't know," says my wife, the realist, "You hear the report today?"
We pick our way across a draw; kick up a little dust
Pass by the old stock tank long peppered with holes and rust
Just another relic left by a man we'll never know
Who prob'ly passed this way himself when he was "headin' home"
Two miles out and lower now, the grass is getting' high
Down here in the valley, the soil ain't so awful dry
Some folks are proud of material things; we never joined that crowd
It's the grass here in the early spring that really makes us proud
Hardly a day goes by we don't think about our pasture
We pray for rain and move the cows to help it grow a little faster
We curse the weeds and try to protect our grama and mountain brome
As I ride, it's the grass I check whether ridin' out or headin' home
One mile out, we see the willows and the two big cottonwood trees
Splash through the creek, clear and cold, up to the horse's knees
Here we stop, let the horse drink, enjoy the dappled shade
On a day like this I often think that we sure got it made
Headin' out on a horse I'm always eager to turn our faces west
Ridin' out with the mornin' sun on your back well, it's just about the best
Only thing better than headin' out is the best thing I've ever known:
Finishin' a good days work out there and headin' home, headin' home
© 2006, Mike Moutoux
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
This poem is included in Art Spur
High Dollar Man
The boss calls me his "High Dollar Man"--- I like the sound of that
Like I'm drawin' top wages for what I do and my bank roll is gettin' real fat
Tell the truth, I work hard for my pay and proud of what I get done
A lot of folks would just wither under our blazing New Mexico sun
I think the boss appreciates how I don't shirk from any task
He knows by now I'll do anything; all Jerry has to do is ask
Like dig postholes by hand where the fence runs through rock and sun baked dirt
I go home with red clay mud on by jeans; barbwire cuts on my hands and shirt
When we brand it's by tradition, we rope 'em and lay 'em down
I'm the one who flanks every calf and keeps 'em safely on the ground
Little ones is easy, but big ones make me fight 'em down there in the dirt
I go home with manure on my jeans; dehornin' blood on my hands and shirt
When Jerry calls me his, "High Dollar Man," I know just what he means
He's sort of payin' his respect for the mud and crud on my jeans
But Jerry is as tight as bark on a stump, he really don't pay a lot
He calls me his "High Dollar Man," all right, but I'm the only man he's got!
© 2006, Mike Moutoux
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Mike told us: My boss, Jerry MacDonald and I were on one of the ranch roads and had stopped to visit a bit with a neighbor who was passing by. Windows were down and the conversation passed back and forth between the drivers. After a while, Jerry looks over at my and then tells his neighbor, "Well, I've got my 'high dollar man' here and I better get him back." I got a kick out of that and within a week or so decided I better preserve that in a poem. I also decided to include it on the new CD, Headin' Home.
About Mike Moutoux:
Mike lives in Grant County, New Mexico and works on a 13,000 acre cattle ranch. At the JEJ, most work is done the traditional way and horseback. He's been performing original poetry and songs since 2002.
Visit Mike Moutoux's web site, www.enchantingcowboy.com
Spirits Still Remain is Mike Moutoux's fourth CD:
Spirits Still Remain
Includes 8 poems and 4 songs:
Spirits Still Remain
Horses and Cattle
Joker
My Best Compliment
For the Ones
Teenagers in the Pen
Shadows in the Draws
She Is
Sam Faces the Truth
Santa's Perfect Gift
Tack Room Charm
My Yodeling SongSpirits Still Remain is available for $17 postpaid from:
Mike Moutoux
P.O. Box 53114
Pinos Altos, NM 88053
Headin' Home is Mike Moutoux's third CD:
Headin' Home
with 15 original poems:
Headin' Home
Ridin' for the Brand
Campfire Tenor
Cowboy Decor
Charlie's Hat
Flyin' Low
Ladies' Night
High Dollar Man
Prickly Pete
Billy's Big Test
Cowboy's Courage
Ol' Dobbs
Last Ride
The Story of the Wreath
One Last Look AroundHeadin' Home is available for $15 postpaid from:
Mike Moutoux
P.O. Box 53114
Pinos Altos, NM 88053
How We Do it Here
2005
:How We Do it Here, is available for $15 postpaid from
Mike
Moutoux
P.O. Box
53114
Pinos Altos, NM 88053
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