Look there at that old gray guy
riding on that ornery horse
which, by looks, would make its rider fly
and do so without remorse.

You'd not tell it by his looks
but he's a complicated man
who spends his spare time reading books
and writing epics when he can.

He's taken me to lands undreamed
back when kings and knights held sway
and things weren't always as they seemed
(in that way like the world today,)

And he sometimes walks along with me
in woods long passed and those still here
where we'd both travel soundlessly
observing squirrels, ducks and even deer.

From his mount he spies his friend
waves, then dismounts and comes my way
with a smile even a rebuilt heart can't end
although saddle sores make his gait sway.

Like most old guys we clasp our hands
then catch up on each other's news.
At a pause we glance toward the high lands
offering their panoramic views.

"Hey Wes" I say "let's take a stroll
but not in lands too rough or steep."
for both of us still pay the toll
of relentless years' slow creep.

And off we go toward painted wood.
This time he leads ( we're in His west)
toward a stream where a wood bridge once stood
both hearts speed a bit in each chest.

He says " I saw a bull elk there one time"
and swears he once heard a grizzly bear
then on that stump composed a rhyme.
He slipped and fell down over there.

Then we cease talk and merely walk.
Perhaps like me he's thinking of
how one day our hunter will win the stalk
and we'll walk autumn woods far up above.