WHEN THERE’S FROST UPON THE PONIES
When there’s frost upon the ponies
an’ snow drift on the ground,
an’ that yeller sun comes creepin’
through the cedars all around,
a feller gets to thinkin’
maybe winter ain’t so bad,
starts shuckin’ off the mem’ries
of the blizzards that we’ve had.
The squeakin’ an’ the crunchin’
of yer boots on mornin’ snow,
when dawn’s a-risin’ easy,
an’ ol’ time’s a-movin’ slow,
makes a feller sorta settled
in the choices that he’s made.
How he coulda wandered elsewhere,
now, he’s mighty glad he stayed.
Most folks don’t understand it,
but he knows just what he’s found …
when there’s frost upon the ponies
an’ snow drift on the ground,
an’ that yeller sun comes creepin’
through the cedars all around.
—from Rattle #30, Winter 2008
Tribute to Cowboy & Western Poetry
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D.W. Groethe: “I have always lived and worked where there’s buttes, coulees and prairie. My poetry, I guess, is the written expression of that existence. To be honest, I don’t know why I write poetry. I really never think about it. It’s something I’ve done since I was seven or eight years old. For me, the ‘why’ isn’t nearly as important as the doing.”
