Cowboys, Campfires & Wild, Wild Things

By Connie Spittler

Powerball 33, my soon-to-be-released novel, inspired some of this poetry.
Some of the poems appeared in the Western & Cowboy Poetry of the Bar-D Ranch anthology. And I read several of these pieces around the campfire at the 2003 Cowboy Festival, Picacho Peak, Arizona.

• Language: English
• Publisher: rjvs
• Release date: Mar 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452411781

Connie Spittler

Connie Spittler’s essays, memoir pieces, short stories and poetry appear in 14 anthologies. Her credits include an award winning nature book, national recognition for essays and memoir, and a video series in Harvard University’s Library on the History of Women in America.

Book preview

Cowboys & Wild, Wild Things

by Connie Spittler

Photography by Robert Spittler

Published by RJVS

at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Connie Spittler

TABLE OF CONTENTS

AROUND THE CAMP FIRE

HANGOVERS HURT MORE THAN THEY USED TO

SAND HILLS CRANES

TOM MIX, THE WHOOP-DE-DO COWBOY

A LITTLE GAME OF ROTATION

GILA MONSTER

INGREDIENTS FOR CHUCKWAGON CHILI

UPON GAZING AT THE RILLITO

THE WILD, MYSTERIOUS BOOJUM

CHANGES

THE WILD THINGS

BEYOND THE SUNSET

PRICKLY PEAR SUNSET

AT THE DUDE RANCH

REFLECTIONS ON A CACTUS BUD

MOON

LOSS

BEFORE I LEAVE …

BIOGRAPHIES

BUYTHENUMBERS

Cowboys & Wild, Wild Things

Poetry, Free Verse & Lyrical Prose

by Connie Spittler

Powerball 33, my soon-to-be-released novel, inspired some of the writing in Cowboys & Wild, Wild Things.

Other poems in this book appeared in the Western & Cowboy Poetry of the Bar-D Ranch anthology.

And I read several of the pieces around the campfire at the 2003 Tucson Trail Ride and Cowboy Poetry Gathering, in the shadow of Picacho Peak, Arizona.

AROUND THE CAMP FIRE

Communication is tough for some folks. Somehow, it’s hard to say what we feel or what we’re thinking. Maybe that’s why some of us write poetry. It’s one way of relating, words on paper, sent quietly from me to you.

The sun dipped down in the afternoon, throwing out last warmth

over the drying weeds of the mesa.

The flames took up the cause, sending out the smell of burnt mesquite.

Dry branches crackled and broke from the rising heat,

as three cowboys sat ‘round the fire in silence.

One cowboy threw spoon measures of coffee into a battered, blue enamel pot.

Another poked the fire with a stick to feed his thoughts.

The third piled more firewood into the shallow pit.

The cowhands sipped from tin cups and watched the day’s ending.

The sun made no cry, no holler,