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Show writes both original poems and reworked parodies of poetry he enjoys. He is a prolific writer, has become well-known as a poet and local historian, and is considered, along with his second wife, to be a storehouse of weatherlore and proverbial expression. Frank has just recently published a third printing of More Rhymes of a Ranch Hand. SPRING ROUNDUP ON THE SAN RAFAEL DESERT I seem to hear the jingle of spurs The rolling grind on a bridle bit The snap and rattle of hoofs and hocks And all that went along with it. The dry monotonous squeak of the saddle The steady rustle of the moving herd; The slap of chaps, the shake of a bridle, Mouths too dry to mutter a word. The blazing sun, the furnace wind, The dark blue arch of sky; The distant snowcapped mountain peaks And dust devils whirling by. We'd start the herd in the early dawn- Letting strong cattle take the lead. Patiently urging the weak ones on To the distant mountain range and feed. I seem to see the parching grass, The seeps and water holes almost dry. The "spring-thin" cows, the tiny calves, And the ominous buzzards soaring high. I can almost feel the shimmering heat; And see the sky picture upside down. A few blades of grass like a field of wheat - And the dark, cool caves of a prairie dog town. This was drouth on the desert range: Ano-Seco, as the Mexicans say. No friendly cloud, only the mirage; An illusion, caused by the heat of the day. 94 Cowboy Poetry From Utah |