Baxter Black

“Your sadness pains me deeply
and I know you’ll miss this man.
But, it’s true what you’ve been hearing, Heaven is a real place.”
The Lord spoke to the heavy hearts
that stood with hats in hand.
“Your sadness pains me deeply
and I know you’ll miss this man.
But, it’s true what you’ve been hearing, Heaven is a real place.
That’s no small consolation.
You should use that fact to face

The emptiness his parting left
that seeps into your bones.
And draw on it to ease your pain.
For he is not alone.
You see, all his friends are up here
and all his loved ones, too.
’Cause it wouldn’t be a heaven
without each one of you.

And heaven for a cowboy
is just what you might expect.
It’s horses that need tunin’ up
and heifers that need checked.
It’s long rides with a purpose
and a code that lights the way.
And a satisfying reason
to get up every day.

It’s the ranch he’s always dreamed of
and never knew he’d find.
And if you think about it,
you can see it in your mind.
Him, leanin’ in the saddle
with his ol’ hat on his head.
Contentment set upon his face
like blankets on a bed.

The leather creaks a little
as he shifts there in the seat.
The bit chains give a jingle
when his pony switches feet.
And you somehow get the feelin’
that he’s sittin’ on a throne.
A-gazin’ out on paradise
just like it was his own.

I can promise you he’s happy,
though I know you can’t pretend
you’re glad he made the journey.
It’s too hard to comprehend.
The earthly way you look
at things can never satisfy
your lack of understanding
for the answer to the ‘Why?’

So, I offer this small comfort
to put your grief to rest,
I only take the top hands
’cause my crew’s the very best.
And I know it might seem selfish
to friends and next of kin,
but I needed one more cowboy
and Baxter fit right in.”   

It’s Christmas time, when we celebrate the birth of Christ. In the U.S., surveys show that more than 80% of us believe in God.

Astrology is one of those wonderful pseudo-sciences, like naturopathy or cattle futures, that anybody with an imagination can rapidly become an expert in.

Now and then I get to thinkin’ I should quit this feedlot job.
Go and ride with Buster what’s-his-name, his Texas wagon mob.

Corn country landscape – painted late summer – high clouds, heavy with moisture waiting for afternoon to thicken and darken and start raising Cain.

Aunt Effie was the “neighborhood healer” in her community of Noble, Oklahoma. When I was visiting and scraped my arm or had a stomachache, she always had the right potion, poultice, roots, soak or fern to treat the ailment.