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NATHAN A. BAKER
Tennessee
About Nathan A. Baker

 

 

Grandpa's Mule

I never was a real cowboy
But grandpa had an old red mule
Her given name was Molly, and
I often rode her to grammar school.

She never really galloped fast
It was only in my mind,
But atop her back I was the proudest
Cowboy you'll ever find.

We crossed the great wide prairie
Through the home of wolf and buffalo
Following herd beneath shining stars
Where thorny bush and cactus grow.

We rode the cold high country
And slept out in the rain
As we rode the few miles to home
Atop gray Carolina lanes

Grandpa died one winter morn
With feed bucket still in hand
By Molly's stall in the old gray barn
Morning oats a gold halo in the sand

Grandma had to sell the farm
And this was the end for me
My cowboy days were over
Except in fond memory.

2007, Nathan A. Baker
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



About Nathan A. Baker:

Nathan is a carpenter/poet living in the mountains of Tennessee. His poems have appeared at Red River Review, Blue House, Quill & Parchment, Lily and forthcoming at The Aroostook Review.

 

 

 

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