The work on the corral was pretty hard,
But the stranger had knowing hands.
It was something that needed done,
And he was a product of the land.
The glaring sun beat down hard on his back,
Sweat dripped from his brow.
But he figured this was better,
Than brush popping for some old cow.
In the distance he heard a gentle yell,
That brought his glance toward the house.
An instant thought made him feel the louse.
There she stood, in a gingham dress.
That a gentle wind had ironed and pressed.
The swell of the woman’s hips,
Left little for a hand to guess.
“Come on up,” She waved to him.
“Get In the shade a while.
“There’s cool water here on the veranda.”
She finished with a smile.
A gentle breeze cornered the house,
Helping the shade bring relief,
An actual chill fell on the man,
Cooler by ten degrees.
He smiled at the woman, said this is the life,
Or close to it by heck,
As a dipper full of chilled water,
Fell about his head and neck.
“Reckon you’ll be moving on,
Once you’ve finished the corral.”
He said, “Ma’am that’s up to you,
Reckon I can stay a while.”