"Gone"

He rode across that desert place,

With a steady eye and long trot pace,

Lookin’ for a black white-face,

And those that might be near.

Found ‘em in a brushy draw,

From a little knoll he saw,

Couldn’t tell you yep or naw,

If the white-face cow was here.

He moved around all those he could,

Began to push ‘em like he should,

And there they’d go if they would,

And if he had some luck.

That white-face cow she drifted out,

And close behind, her calf no doubt,

Thirteen pair both wild and stout,

A bush made his horse buck.

He grabbed for leather lost a rein,

Old counterfeit’s sun-fishing game,

And on the ground he cursed his name,

Like any cowboy would.

Did not go far he caught him quick,

And never missed a single lick,

Cows to gather, what a trick,

He did the best he could.

At suppertime he told his wife,

That maybe he’d give up this life,

Leave behind the horseback strife,

‘Cause he don’t bounce no more.

She smiled sweet because she’s heard,

This conversation every word,

Never know, he might be spurred,

To quit, not like before.

One day his bones will let him know,

That it’s past time to let it go,

Rein him in and tell him whoa,

Till then he’ll just ride on.

But that Owyhee calls his name,

She’s ever-changin’ ne’er the same,

And to the end a cowboy’s game,

And then he will be gone.

“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, NAS)

Two years ago this week I was with John Babb gathering cows off the Owyhee desert in Idaho. I spoke to John this afternoon and he had just come off the ranch after moving cattle all day. He told me this story that happened a couple weeks ago. The seasons of life turn and we can’t do everything we used to when we were younger. But that’s okay. Why? Because God rules over every season of life, and fills each with His purposes. From cradle to grave He’s still in charge. It’s a good thing to remember.

Art by Clark Kelley Price, used by permission. Thanks, Clark, and God bless you.