Old Ropes

There's always a story behind every old rope.
Maybe it caught a mad heifer off a roan on a lope;
or got drenched in the rain on a day with a storm,
because no matter the weather, there's work to perform.
Then there's stories of the poly, nylon, reata, or maguey
that drug calves to the fire till it started to fray;
but you keep that old rope whose life's gone away,
because it holds the memories from your good and bad days.
  -Em

Horses of God

They stand in absolute silence beneath the falling flakes of white,
In the bitter cold and the blinding snow at 0 Fahrenheit.
Their matted tails and tangled manes look accustom this time of year,
And in their eyes you don't see the slightest bit of fear.
Instead you see a bit of Gods hand in the creation of this companion for man.
And you realize the horse is a special thing, made by the Father, the Heavenly King.

                                                                  -Em