We leave the windows wide for owls
And ignore coyotes that woo the moon,
Complaining they own the ranch.
Skunks waddle by,
Sniffing for traps.

Papaw taught me
North and south through his pastures,
Past bulls to windmills and muddy ponds.
He slapped a dime store compass in my hand,
Turtle with a tin head wobbling on a pin.
Miles from the barn, I climbed crossbeams
And saw the plains through spinning blades,
A round horizon without a town.
Buzzards patrolled
In slow whirlpools, and coyotes loped away.

I thought I'd never be lost on a gelding
Trotting home. In the desert outside Baghdad,
Even a compass lied, no directions out.
Now, after that war a world away.

The ranch is mine now, no trains on tracks
Laid out by crews long dead.
I swore I'd ride the range and never look back
In spite of friends missing in action.

Sheep claim the ranch, butting each other off
As if they own the troughs.
At dusk we stare off
At plains we'll harvest tomorrow.
Heads bowed,
The sheep lie down,
Worshipping only now.

My man's blue eyes know dark from dawn
And lead me always home.
Nights, I feel the needle wobbling like an old woman
On a high wire, but pointing north.