Going Fishing

Bawling calves and hanging dust

That gets in ears and forms a crust

Around the nostrils and the lips;

The contest has commenced

As carefully the nylon dips

To heels for dragging to the fire.

Take your time since slow is fast

And we won’t quit until the last

Has tag and brand and vaccination

That will start them on a path

To feed a growing nation

The nutritious beef that they desire.

Across the dry and dusty Plains.

A land of sparse, infrequent rains,

Neighbors from across the land

Gather in branding pens

To lend a helping hand

Once each year sometime in the spring.

There are smiles and jokes

Among these ranching folks

As they work the long and dusty day

In heat and wind

With a late meal for pay

And hearts full of this simple thing.