Ken

He brought all outdoors

 To each room he stepped into

 The range, the wind, the action

 Of the cowboy life he knew.

 

 No job too tough, no day too long

 No eight to five for him

 It was saddle, spurs and sagebrush

 From sunup to twilights dim.

 

 He loved family, friends, and fishing,

 Pickups and mountain mornings;

 Cowcamps, sunshine and moonlight,

 Sixguns and saddle horses.

 

 He rode a trail of silence

 Found a way that few have known 

He heard his heart, he found his peace 

Gave us a pattern, then rode off alone.



Bad Times

While just the feeblest falter during life's ideal
With courses on a smoothly charted main,
Be not dismayed by trying circumstance,
For lives, like rope, are proven only under strain. 

 

Meet Cecil and hear him read some of his poetry.