There is the sound of the gravel beneath my truck tires

As I roll through the ranch gate

The squall of a peacock beating the drums of his feathers

To draw in his mate

There is the sight of my buddy, Gap, leaning against his truck

With the crooked and bent frame of an 85 year old man

Who lived his life so hard and with so much love

There is the smell of the old cabin

Full of animal hides and heads

Tall tales and photos

And knots to learn be tied

Over and over again

There is this man who has so much to share

But not enough years to share it all

There is this life

With not enough days

And not one second guaranteed

And then

There is this desire to fill every single moment

With as much of him as I can

Because I know that one day it will end

And he will take his final ride

To join all his friends in the sky

And so my dear friend

Let’s take a shot of whiskey

As you weave me another mountain yarn

While you pull bits of hay out of my hair

We will pretend for a moment

That age and time do not exist

And we will live in this moment forever