Horses are part of life in Los Angeles. At different points along Sunset Blvd., the horse trails curve down to meet the traffic. Horses amble by- cowboy hats- even I have a cowboy hat. I probably look ridiculous wearing it. I’ve wanted to be a cowboy since childhood, but I’ll probably only ever qualify as a “Dude.” Remember when Country music was called “C&W?” Country & Western. I live in the West (for now). I play the Dobro. I listen to Country music. Does that make me “Country?” I doubt it.
Here is a poem by James Wright:
by James Wright
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break