By Wild Bill © 2012

Packing in the evening
Butterflies descend.
Clean, tuned and ready
For the mission to begin.
First sunlight shadows,
Cool morning moist with dew,
Cold creeps into the bone,
First light is the cue.

Trepidation, stimulation,
Fear mixed with dread,
Excitement, anticipation
Bouncing ‘round my head.
This is the cost and pleasure
In my solitary quest
As I step up to my partner
And disturb her evening rest.

Awake, awake from dreams I plea
Together we’ll take flight
From mornings glow to the east
‘til west consumes the light.
Cold attacks the senses
As we flee from dawns first crack
And shadow guides us on our trail
With sun upon my back.

I leave her still, yet to dream
Though mine are lost in fret
Of chains and tires and weather
To late for my regret.
The loss of ones mortality
Is fair enough a trade
For without risk a lifetime
Is just a masquerade.

So in the morn’ I’ll mount up
Set my compass on the track,
Load up both my saddlebags
Strap the tent upon the back,
Take one last look behind me
As nerves and weakness battle,
Then stretch a leg astride my mount
And rest upon the saddle.