RODEO, a poem by Julie Perrill
As he says a prayer, and gives the okay with a little nod of this head, he holds on with the old tattered glove he’s always had.
As the gate opens wide, out of the shoot, the rank Brahma bull bucks him up, and down and around. As he spurs him to moved he can feel all the aches and pains from the rides before.
While he holds on for dear life, he wonders if he can stay on this night and ride the eight seconds he needs to win the money, for this is a cowboy’s life.