Coffee chases away the chills of the night as I sit wrapped in fleece, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. There’s no sunrise to poeticize at this unjust hour only the light from the kitchen’s bare bulb illuminates the shadows where last nights demons still hide. It’s a morning blend of stale whiskey and lingering words better left unsaid.
Under a starlit sky with the moon shining high you can lose your heart out there. Among the mountains and the sage, in the basin or on the plains you can lose your heart. Out where the land is still wild and the horses trot for miles – you could lose your heart to me:
I’m the smell of the sage and the wind before rain.
I’m wide-open space, gullies and river breaks.
I’m the frost in the morning or the colors in the sky before the sun takes its place.
I’m wild and unchanged compared to a world that’s modern day.
I stand for an age that has long gone away, but where tradition still stays.
You will lose your heart
to the sand and sage, the stars and moon, and the cold, frozen days too.