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Steinway 4
by Carl Adkins
(Written for Cowboy Poetry Contest August 7, 2009
Ozark Folk Center, Mountain View, Arkansas)
He once roamed the hills of Wyoming
At home in a vanishing land
I bought him with alien markings
Frozen there by another man's hand
Known to the Bureau as Mustang
Steinway's his Sapien name
I gave for his Ivory Star-Strip-Snip
And polished Ebony mane
Fred Woehl had to bid on him for me
When my duties had kept me away
And as a good friend helped me load him
Wishing us luck for our way
Three hours he rode in my trailer
With a donkey named Dobro also
We traveled along to Dodd Mountain
Our adoption was starting to go
Unloading proceeded with caution
He bravely stepped off much aware
That though he had been made a gelding
He greatly admired both our mares
Once rested unpestered in round pen
Having fed without human approach
We stood as close as our comfort
I started to settle and coach
I took hold of his lead rope and halter
To ask him to stand for my touch
He snorted and blew me some boogers
We didn't accomplish that much
Progress was made often slowly
No breakthroughs like on RFD
I was no professional cowboy
And he was quite cautious of me
Often as schedule permitted
In his pen I would quietly stand
Quickly releasing the pressure
When he accepted the touch of my hand
I moved from his nose to his forehead
To neck, to withers, to back
To patiently reassure him that motion
Was never a form of attack
We started out walking in circles
Made turns and encouraged the whoa
I found that he d rather be trotting
The minute I asked him for slow
Each session he tested my mettle
To see if the lead role was mine
I worked to be ever consistent
Not to frustrate his temper or mine
Then one day he stood for a rubbing
He stood quiet for brushing his tail
His feet were picked up without trauma
Head low, he stood at the rail
Encouraged, I put on the blanket
Ecstatic, I put on his tack
And then like a fool with a bucket for stool
I too quickly mounted his back
Three seconds I rode like a cowboy
Three seconds that seemed like an hour
He spun in a way to escape me
Missed my head and then stomped on a flower
I took a week to get rested
Some more days to rest up my back
He showed me no bad inclination
But his next rider was a feed sack
Our training continued on forward
At city boy's timing and pace
Watching his ears for his signals of fears
We came to a comfortable place
At last I finally mounted
Standing square, he let out a sigh
I haven't yet won, but isn't it fun
To be saddled on such a great guy
A year passed since we started
He might not be full broke to ride
But he's learning fine, and the title is mine
I'm happy with him at my side
So if you ve considered adoption
It ain't for the faint by no means
But it would be meet for a set of tough feet
To take you to open air scenes
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