A Cowboy’s Hands

by Susan Condeff

A cowboy’s hands are forlorn
Worn down by time and land
Calloused by the parcel’s stones

The saddle horn held tight
Forceful like his life
Intent on roping the steer
lariat extends his stronghold

holds onto fear
like he brushes off dirt

saddled with independence
he journeys life
like a race with no finish line

The old ranch, his mistress
Dust and grit, foreplay
He rides the mountains
Like he loves a woman
With freedom and passion

And the aligning sun
His compass & heart

Textures

by Diane Lovitt

Textures overlap
Skin, sleeve, leather, rope and hair
Looping together.

What Say

by Art Tenbrink

Holding loosely firm
What would we hear them whisper
If these hands could talk?

Experienced Hands

by Jordan Bernal

Weathered hands rest light
Braided rope within their grasp
Trained horse, a delight

His Hands

by Linda Todd

What I noticed first about him was his hands; tanned, sprinkled with freckles, and lightly dusted with soft light brown hair. He sat tall in the saddle, held the reins with a light touch. He and his horse moved in concert around the corral.

My boots sound my arrival on his wood porch. I knock and wait for him to open the door. I wait to feel the light touch of his hands roam across my bare skin. I wait to move in concert with him.

< Calla Lilly

Couple: My Love >

Cattleman & Horse Trainer Hands by Kay Speaks