One Old Red-Eyed Steer

I’ve been a ranch hand since I could ride,
I’ve seen the best winter sunrise
crack a frozen sky, watched rain
with attitude bounce in the sage,

listened to coyotes and meadowlarks
sing in the twilight and launch stars,
mothered cranky trucks and broke down cows,
but the only worst thing

I ever had to cope with is one old
red-eyed steer that thinks he owns
this outfit. He’s tried to run me down,
stomp me into dirt,

kick, nibble, and gnaw,
and I have the bones to prove it.
The first thing in the morning
I find out where he’s at and what’s

on his mind, and keep him in front.
I cut him for slaughter a couple times
but some disruption comes up
and he doubles back. He’s over

by the water tank now,
I’d best go and talk.