Dusty Days of Rodeo

POETRY BY SADDLEBAG DISPATCHES POET LAUREATE MARLEEN BUSSMA

The bull’s head slams into the rails that seem to scream in pain.

The stock pen settles, gives up any reason to complain.

His hoof digs deep, then hurls a hunk of rodeo real estate.

Clear snot leaks from his nose while frightful eyes are filled with hate.

His beller joins the chorus of the rough stock in the pen.

Rank critters bide their time until they go against the men.

Doug scrutinizes fury as he tours the holding grounds.

He makes a mental note and then continues with his rounds.

Doug studies all the livestock, knows each rider’s record stats.

He gladly shares his info if a rider stops and chats.

He’ll tell just how a horse turns out emergin’ from the chute,

how high they buck or sunfish, and pull extra rein to boot.

That smolderin’ volcano that was smackin’ rails of steel

might have a thought to gore you when you hit the dirt and feel

his hot, damp lava breath explodin’ in your personal space.

The clowns are there to save you, but this tip helps with the chase.

The gates have finally opened, and the crowd is fillin’ seats.

Doug makes his way to saddle up his quarter horse who greets

him with a nicker, says he’s ready for another show.

As rodeo announcer, Doug has turned into a pro.

His mother may have worried that he’d be a cowboy bum,

but fate had other plans and dropped a beauty of a crumb.

He’d signed up for bull ridin’ in a small-town rodeo.

Results were a disaster and a stockman told him so.

He tells Doug, “Go upstairs and start announcin’ in the booth.”

Doug says, “I’m no announcer!” Stockman says, “Well, here’s the truth.

You’re no bull rider either. Call the action in the ring.”

Years later, Doug has honed his craft and makes that ol’ mic sing.

He’s polished smooth as river rock describin’ what you see.

“A ton of thrustin’ thunder,” is a horse’s buckin’ spree.

Doug gives the crowd a ride on energy that’s flowin’ high.

Then takes them back into the barn as if the evenin’s nigh.

He educates the crowd on each contestant’s claim to fame.

Spectators feel like family as they hear about each name.

The riders all have paid their dues while workin’ hard to win.

Doug thanks them for the time and effort that they’ve all put in.

His mind is sharp as spurs he wears, with wit to fill corrals.

A voice of velvet baritone can rival mission bells.

Doug’s earned the sweat that stains his hat. He wears it like a brand.

He sits tall in the saddle with a mic gripped in his hand.