On a Charlie Russell range under wide Montana skies,
Pale Shoshone and buffalo bring tears to old squaw's eyes.
A purple wash of prairie sun slides slow beneath the rim—
A sky of gold and purest white brings awe to horse and men.
God's pulsing clouds and russet rain breathes life into sunset—
Cast stark in brass and iron and bronze without one last regret.
They silhouette Indians like Remingtons on the hill—
This art will last for centuries while man's just never will.
So hold them high in the sky and let no man call it strange—
Art is life's sweet brevity beneath a Charlie Russell range.
Originally Posted On Site: 2009-10-09 17:16:41
Last Login: 03.02.10
Visits as of 12-12-07: 263
Comments:
|
|||
|
|||
