Brenn Hill


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Around the rim on Cottonwood

There stands a cedar shack

And a pole corral to pen a bronc

And a shed to hang your khack

Beneath the peak of lodgepoles

Between an aspen stand

Behind the crest of cedars

That stretch the broken land

Between the sage and the timber

Where cattle often hide

Where I ride to each December to curl up inside

And look up at the windy peaks

And feel the fire's glow

Then trot out through the morning

'Cross the dusted winter snow

Around the rim on Cottonwood

A brand new lion track

That dots a line up through the draw

And slowly circles back

Where somewhere in the bitter night

He drifted like a spirit

Beyond the realm of vision

Not I nor horse could hear it

But yet the proof that there he crept

Cut fresh into the snow

And still I shiver at the thought

Of where and why he goes

Around the rim on Cottonwood

Where deep the canyon cuts

Into the mountain's very bowels

Its twisted winding guts

The frozen rivers down below

And warm springs on the hill

At minus seventeen and more

The water's running still

And running deep are shadows now

For day does not stay long

Soon the full moon rises high

And I can hear the song of one lonely coyote

Singing farewell to the sun

Sending out the call that finally evening time has come

Around the rim on Cottonwood

My fire's burning down

My cabin warm

My ride was good

My sleep is sweet and sound

Writer/s: Brenn Hill