"The old Lobo on the side of the Road."

I Remember the Feelings there
Lonely and Wide-open
There, in Eastern Oregon
Where the tree-line meets the
Desert in-between rising Alpine
Mountains and Arid Barreness

Swiftly flowing rivers careening
down from 13,000 feet to meet
the flat-lands below, from here
they'd go out and water
And Dry Desert Land-scape
that seemed Haunting but at
the same time, Inviting to the
Lonesome Soul

Hot, Dry Summers and Cold
Snowy Winters that were
Extreme enough to Freeze
digits to the Bone if not
Insulated and kept Warm
Where Love-making made
good Safety to keep one from
the Bitter cold
And as always a bottle of sweet
Southern Comfort to also set
the Mood

And the Aromatic smells of the
Juniper trees and Alfalfa when
in Harvest
For some Reason their Smells
always gave me Solace
And the occasional Coyote and
Mountain-lion that wandered
into town
Man they were always a sight
to Behold

I Remeber one Particularly
Snowy-night when the Drifts
were a few feet high on the
Road-side, at 3 a.m while
going home from a twelve-hour
day
I saw an old Weathered-looking
Lobo along the way and knew
that he was far from home
For some Reason I had to stop
near-by and our eyes met
No, not with Caution or Threat
but with what Felt like some
Common-thread

And we Stared for a Moment and
then I said, "Old Man, have you
lost your way," and he Looked at
me and Answered I think, because
when he did, he dropped his head
and turned-back towards the
Tranquility of the Desert and was
on his way

I never saw that Wolf again

Happy Trails, my Animal-spirit Friend