Old Spookses' Pass, Malcolm's Katie, and other poems

A weather‑worn poet takes you into a night‑time cattle drive, where a lanky mustang kicks up dust and the fire‑light flickers against a sky full of coyotes and distant stars. The verses pulse with the earthy slang of trail riders, each line echoing the rhythm of hooves, the crackle of a campfire, and the restless whisper of a narrow mountain pass. As the narrator watches the herd and the surrounding wilderness, his voice drifts between gritty humor, quiet awe, and a hint of reverence for something larger than the open range.

The piece balances the wild, unforgiving frontier with moments of introspection—considering the thin line between flesh and stone, the quiet sermons of hills and rivers, and a yearning to climb toward an unseen, eternal guide. It offers listeners a vivid, almost cinematic portrait of life on the trail, where camaraderie, perseverance, and the raw beauty of the landscape blend into an unforgettable, lyrical ride.