So you want to go mule riding, m’lady?
Here’s a mule: his name is Rip. He is older
with few vices but still full of fire and heart.
He knows how to put fire and heart into his work.
So now you’re mounted and settled; I must
say you’ve a fine seat…on that mule. Rip’s
showing you the best of his best this morning.
He knows that you make him look good.
We trot up the track to the south pasture then
north to the old Get-A-Long Trail then a mile
and six furlongs to the great cross roads. Now
the choice is before us: Where shall we ride?
We can ride the shores of the deep southern ocean
Or thru Texas down to the isles of the Caribbean Sea
or west cross the prairies and the Rockies to the
peaceful ocean and ride cross it on mule back
to lands new found and ancient that lie
bounded by that great ocean and it seas.
We can ride where we will for we are poets
full of heart and fire, imagination and desire…
We can ride the high ridges and coulees
Of the vast blue desert of song where the
wind fills the heart of the poet and even
the mules have been known to sign along
I know a fine campsite near the center
by the big water hole there. Plenty of
grazing for the beasties, and shelter from
the wind for our tent and our fire.
There we can study one another sing songs
and raise a little hell. Our we can ride the
the moon trail and star paths to where
no mule, nor man, nor woman have trod.
We can ride up to the gate of heaven and
interview the Buddha, Mohammed, and St Paul,
chat with Confucius, and, if we’re not too
blasphemous, shake the hand of God……
