In my prime,
I could make a creek run backwards.
I could steal food from out a buzzard’s beak
an’ if my skin turned silver enough,
I could even fly.

I could stalk a winter sun thru naked forests,
screeching the song of the peregrine.
My legs were strong of bone.
My toes would splay flat on cold, wet ground
leaf and mud would cling
to my feet like fussy babies.

I could tame a Blue Norther with a rope and crop.
Swinging my left arm up over my head, I’d holler
a Yeehah and a Yippee-i-o-ki-a.  That ice-cold
beast would grow warm and tame between my legs.

I don’t like to brag
BUT, in those days,
Cactus would flower
Bluebonnets would bow their heads
showing bare neck when I passed.
There’d be no telling the coyotes to hush.
An’ bears would groan like lost lovers
when I’d roll in their thick, brown fur.

© 1998 Brenda Moossy


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