Old and worn she stands,

Wearing old man’s beard and spiders.

Great protector of the flock, standing guard, drawing lines.

Sculpting the contour of our farm.

Sturdy and steady she persists,

Under harsh winds, battering rains and winter’s relentless snow.

Ice drips for months on her arms, frozen solid.

Stoic is she, unremitting.

Her sides, bleached by sun,

Her cracks filled with horse rubbed manes,

Still standing after so many years.

Surviving target practice with the 22.

Bracing the child with prothetic legs, leaning on her for strength.

He’s now buried, she is still standing, still waiting.

Waiting to support, protect, guide yet another.

She’s watched as Skippy trotted his last trot.

She’s supported the hind end of the little girl who loved him.

Watching him gallop in the pasture sitting safely on her restful arms.

She’s watched days turn into years, and children grow and leave.

She’s watched and witnessed it all.

Old and warn she stands,

Wearing old man’s beard and spiders.

Great protector of the flock, standing guard, drawing lines,

Sculpting the contour of our farm.

~ by Lori Davis of Hi Bar Ranch

In loving tribute to all that our farm gives us back