Home

I spend a lot of time pondering my next great masterpiece as I ride down the trail. And as I was worrying about all the things I needed to do at "home" while I was out riding, it dawned on me... stop worrying.. Heather, you are home.

"Home is where the heart is"
I often hear folks say.
For me, that ode rings true
A little more each and every day.

'Cause, you see, home to me,
It's in the heart of my horse
As he carefully picks his way
O'er a rough and rocky course.

It's not four walls made of wood and stone,
It's not the roof over my head.
It's the night's starry blanket
That's where I choose to lay my head.

Home is the comfort of the leather
My saddle, used and worn.
It fits my horse right fine.
And weathers many a storm.

Home is the Montana mountains
With wildflowers in full bloom.
The time I get to spend
In my Maker's 'living room'.

Home's the early morning sound
Of horse bells ringing in my ear
As they graze to get their fill
For the day's work drawing near.

Home is cowboy coffee
Brewed black, hot, and strong.
The first sip of the morning
Helps me ready to get a move on.

Home is friendly smiles and conversation
With guests 'round the campfire's glow.
Feels like troubles are gone a while,
And the good of life we get to show.

Home is the distant memories
Recalled of special moments shared 
As Grandpa talked about these same things
And about his life and cares.

So, home can't get much better,
Until I meet the good Lord above.
And when I ride that trail for one last time,
I will thank Him for this life I love.