When I’m ridin’ alone in the night-time way out on the desolate range,
With the moon shinin’ down through the cloud-hills and the canyons and draws lookin’ strange
And the shadowy buttes loomin’ dimly, way out where the coyotes call,
I know that the hand of no human conceived it and fashioned it all.
When I’m lopin’ across the wide mesa where blossoms send out their perfume,
I know that an All-Wise Creator had somethin’ to do with each bloom;
‘Cuz no mortal hand on this planet could paint us them colors, I know,
Nor spangle the coulees and foothills with all the gay posies that grow.
I know that the greem of the ranges don’t come at the biddin’ of man;
The landscape makes all of them changes because of the Creator’s plan.
I know that the beauties about me–the sunshine, the blooms and the rest,
Wa’n’t put there by man nor his helpers, but at the good Lord’s own behest.
And nights when I lie at the campfire and look at the stars in the sky,
I’m ready to own that no human made all of them planets on high’
But only the Boss of the Heavens reached down from the Home Ranch above,
And moulded and builded and fashioned the blossoms and ranges I love.
(Earl Alonzo Brininstool)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, Home Poems, Planning Poems, Astronomy & Cosmology PoemsBased on Keywords: shinin, ranch, foothills, helpers, mesa, me-the, campfire, canyons, ridin, all-wise, spangle