Mule Fool

Rental up Sierra Street,
sun rising on the peaks.
Hear those last Mule brays;
wanting to return next week.

A loud hum in the heart,
a bright spark in the eye.
Beauty so extravagant,
stopped twice to look and spy.

Can't believe it happened,
the past five days, a dream.
Don't pinch me, I'll wake up from,
the lash rope throwing scene.

Those ropes flew high and fast,
like osprey over loads.
Hands moving with precession.
Rock Creek should wear blind folds.

Home to tie a box hitch;
the first one for these hands.
The knots are spiritual;
connecting soul to Western lands.

Saw mule team jump the traces;
brought tear drops to the eye.
Do they pull or push the wagon? 
Give explanation why.

Many New friends made,
some maybe whole life long.
So easy to connect with,
the long ear's braying song.

Not wanting it to end,
just make it one more day.
The mules have worked so hard,
and are over of the dry hay.

As this crazy heart beats,
passed Mt. Tom up 395.
I'm in love with Bishop Mule Days,
and feeling so alive.