There were pellets of winter mix on the windshield
When I drove the roads in the area I still call home
From Cordell to Cowden and then on to Alfalfa
It was like retracing steps where I used to roam
First a stop south of the Black Post east of Cordell
There a grand barn from the past was dust bound
Traveling dirt where wide eyed Holstein calves live
Then after a gyp hill there was the Cowden round
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem