Mosey Along Poem by Cowboy Ron Williams

My horse and I are not concerned
about the loss of time.
Throughout the years we both have learned
we still have hills to climb.

It matters not if those same slopes
have seen us climb before;
what matters is we keep our hopes
upon some distant shore.

The bears and cougars that we see
tell us that there is prey.
The deer and elk then from them flee,
and scamper far away.

We see blue jays and many grouse,
and birds of every hue;
occasionally a little mouse
or chipmunk comes in view.

I love to ride at break of day,
the sun just peeking out,
or even when the sky is gray,
or darkness all about.

I love to ride the hills at night,
when leaves are coated with frost.
The writer Tolkien was so right:
not all who wander are lost.