Poet's Korner

Howdy! The Korner is proud to bring you the latest chanson de shrub steppe from Steed Stetson. That's right folks, after pert near two years of beatin' the hot ol' dusty way of the cowboy poetry circuit, Stetson's ready to settle down for a spell. He's been everywhere from Battle Mountain to Mountain Home but indicates he's excited to be back. Adjust your pupils to an appropriate diameter:

The tumbledown schoolhouse was packed
to the recently installed glass panes.
So many faces, so much noise.
Miss Roberta kept the silent aplomb of
a Prussian brakeman.
I wish I could block it all out.

Nature or nurture?
Was I wrong to notice and do nothing?
Or is life just a series of lassos to
jump through before you can
become your own cattle baron?
Maybe I just think too damned much.
But that last time I didn’t think enough
I got a red-hot poker to the temple.

The population had boomed since
the discovery of molybdenum in
the nearby hills a generation ago.
For my two bits, Salt Creek was no
place to raise younguns, unless
you don’t mind a broken education
system and broken bottles
in the street.

As for me, I’m thinking of moving on.
Call it cowardice if you like. Maybe
I’m running from problems rather than
solving ‘em, but I’m no student teacher.
My students are the big sage, my
classroom the open prairie.