Weathered
By Darrell Holden, cowboy poet and rancher
The dark clouds are building,
There’s a storm blowing in.
And I can feel the wind’s bite,
On my nose and my chin.
Cows are uneasy,
Cause they feel it too.
But I fork em some hay,
And watch while they chew.
Early November,
Brings a change in the air.
Up on the high tops,
Snow is already there.
But here at the home place,
We still have bare ground.
And a few lonesome tumbleweeds,
The wind blows around.
All over our nation,
Clouds fill up the sky.
Uncertainty lingers,
And darkens our eye.
And all I can do,
Is to pray and have hope.
As our proud, fragile nation
Turns out to vote.
I’ve turned off the TV
Try to ignore my phone.
Find my solace in livestock,
Out here all alone.
Worry won’t help me,
Won’t change anything.
So, I’ll look for the peace,
Only God can bring.
I’ll pray for America,
May God stretch out His hand.
And bless us to prosper,
All across this fine land.
May we come together,
Feel our old unity.
In this greatest of nations,
The home of the free.
We’ve seen dark times before,
And God pulled us through.
Help us now Lord,
To know what we should do.
Help us be kinder,
Help us lead with our heart.
Take us back to the days,
Before this hatred did start.
I’m just one old rancher,
With way too many sins.
But God Bless our nation,
No matter who wins.
Darrell Ekker Holden
November 5th, 2024
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