Dusty

On my birthday, a present,

A stick horse named Dusty.

He flew a like a pheasant,

He could be really fussy.

Outlaws and bad guys we chased,

The sun never set till we caught them all.

Danger and adventure we did face,

At day's end we stood proud and tall.

The imagination of a child soon ends,

As he grows to a man's dream in stride.

Trading stick horse in for a four-legged friend.

Dusty is his name, a dappled steed to ride.

Now we chase the wind and rain.

Searching to range for the cattle each year.

We hope to find them and relieve their pain,

But it is the adventure and danger near.

We must find them before the snow,

Watching for wolves and bears with dangerous features.

Dusty and I travel to aid them, you know.

Desiring no harm to any of these creatures.

The spring will come with the sweetness of rain.

We will escort them back to the mountains on high.

Riding Dusty as we make it each year is not in vain.

Life in God's country is better than money can buy.