shaking off dust on Stenson felt,
wiley and wooly,

feather ruffled but holding fast
lingering churned earth falls in plumes
kicked up by straddled bulls
meanadering now cowboys saunter in
to a bar room floor creaky,
pitched and worn,
gathering folk from near and far
lean in to bartenders weary from long hot summers and ornery gadabouts

turquoise laden,

his eyes blink slowly,
showing off lashes

longer than rope
meant for gathering virile stead
who pine for pastures and willing and obviously able,
he asks if the seat is taken