"Golden"

BY SAMANTHA NEWBURY

Far off in the horizon 

The quake of spur boots enlivens

Land that is fruitless and unthriving 

A golden man tracks through the desert sand

A cowboy on the prowl 

Holding gifts in his hands 

Holster at his side

Gun unloaded and oil dried 

Merely giving the desired effect 

Of dastardly intent 

And the kiss of death

Only so he can continue forward 

Without fret of the steely blade of a knife 

Being drawn to his neckerchief clad neck

The brim of his high-crowned black hat 

Shades his dazzling stoneware features 

He'll happily give you his beloved cap 

Will not hesitate to shuck the shirt off his back

The blaze of the high noon sun not of concern 

His blood immune to the toxin of rapacity 

Because his heart lies within his eyes 

They are baptized in healing sodalite 

On and on he walks

Coyote's howl and cry 

How swell it must be 

For the cacti and Joshua trees 

As they are witnesses of a select few 

Sole observers of 

The presence of a golden man such as he