the timber and the dying

in the far east of the sands
of the great Mojave  
with upright    
cheerful cactus  
and the Joshua tree    
for company  
   
(and oh my how they had dug in and held, no small feat in this climate)  
   
An old marker read  
   
here lies Uncle  
Uncle was my horse  
it took two days in the hot sun  
to bury him    
but he was a very good horse  
Uncle RIP  
   
the sands had once formed a soft curve  
over the top of the cowboys hard work  
but now there was nothing but    
the weathered marker  
showing time passed  
with brittled barn wood heartbreak  
and memory drifting to the east with it  
   
like the coiling sands  
and their fine mimic    
of the rattlesnake  
slithering to meal  
twirling off towards the Joshua  
seeking to pile against him  
for ease and comfort  
and some rest  
   
it was surely a very hot wind  
that had carried the cowboy on  
after such a loss  
of a very good horse  
we will remember him now  
called Uncle  
   
(i am sure he was a noble steed and even in his eve of passing quite handsome to the cowboy)  
   
and surely that wind carried his sorrowful melody to the Joshua  
for cowboys often sing very sad songs  
and the Joshua heard the loss  
in the cowboy song  
and most likely wept    
a fortunes worth of affinity  
in tears of an evergreens nurture  
and sheltered him a moment in kind  
   
the cowboy head off  
long  
long ago  
in search of a hopeful Eden  
in search of new companions  
to lift his weariness  
and place his boots  
   
but for the Joshua  
his surprising elevation  
and ability to watch  
and remember  
long after the timber    
fades to forget  
nobody would  
   
and the sad cowboy  
in the blink of an eye  
far from the sands    
now to the west  
and under his own stone  
and the worn down of it  
    
and i become the Joshua  
and feel the time of this  
into my depths    
though they may be shallow  
they are strong  
they know their fortune    
and are kind to what is buried near  
   
and what might walk away from it