Houston, Texas, has an event of great tradition.
Old West trail rides with some new additions.
There are pickup trucks and huge motor homes,
Cowboys and cowgirls, on horses, using cell phones.
My hubby and I were invited to "get some kicks,"
Riding the Salt Grass, along with Wagon Six.
A privilege for us, the oldest ride we'd take.
As we are out-of-towners, Wisconsin is our state.
A thousand riders, for a week, a hundred miles they go.
Skinners and their mules have covered wagons that they tow.
The horses crow hop and have a hissy fit;
A red ribbon in a tail means a horse will kick.
Slickers, hat covers, stampede strings for wind and rain,
A galley wagon for our meals, and Porta-Potties hitched like a train.
Our trail boss and his crew were all the best.
The cooks were the greatest, better than all the rest.
The Houston Rodeo Parade awaited us at the end;
We headed for tall buildings with horses and new friends.
With jet planes flying overhead, the crowds would make us smile,
The past and present converged that day, for those last few miles.
And when it came time to part, I even saw some tears.
I hope this tradition will continue through the years.
Then the Old West will live in our hearts and minds,
And we can return to "cowboy up" one more time.