By Rod Nichols
Some fellers favor sunup
just before their day begins
while others favor evenin’
when their day is at an end
But this old cowboy’s dif’rent
it’s the way I’ve always been,
cause the time that gets me smilin’
is the time for headin’ in.
With a day of work behind me
and before the sunset ends,
it’s a quiet and peaceful feelin’
on the trail while headin’ in.
There’s a breeze that often comes up
as a warm, southwestern wind,
and a glow across the prairie
as I’m slowly headin’ in.
Above a hawk is wheelin’
swoopin’ down then up again,
as if he wants one final look
‘fore he too is headin’ in.
My saddle pal don’t say much
but he tells me with a grin,
he feels about the same as me
with our ponies headin’ in
Someday this’ll all be over
just the prairie, grass and wind,
I hope He’ll let me pass this way
when it’s time for headin’ in.
Cowboy poet Rod Nichols (1942-2007) of Texas published three volumes of his poetry. He was at the forefront of the resurgence of interest in the art.
