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