I descend from the men of stone and walking,
men who labored to haul the rock from canyons,
men who argued with sons and knew their whiskey,
men of departure.

I descend from the men of digging furrows,
men who planted potatoes, squash and onions,
men who carried a gun and took their losses,
men of conviction.

I descend from the men of rustling cattle,
men who traveled until a woman withered,
men who squandered their time in search of fortune,
men out of cadence.


First appeared in Kin Poetry Journal