The rodeo grounds are empty and grass and weeds are growing along the pathways of the bulls and broncs, each one angry to be moved, each one that bucked and twisted and took to flight when flying was not their business, each that had violently placed their rider on the ground before they were done, have now been trucked away, to another place, another time, another city.
Crowds have moved along,
to open range - among the cities and towns, and one light burgs, to farmhouses and ranches, they spent their money to get in, ate their peanuts and popcorn, found cold beer for sale, pickles on sticks, and their small boys and girls left with hats, and slingshots, and memories a plenty.
Fall should jump on us shortly, long sleeves and sweaters and winter after that with coats and hats to cover, and another spring, another year will roll around and we’ll see it all new, again, next year .
In the mean time, there are sunflowers, that have risen above the fences, looking over the top rails, watching for livestock, looking for cowboys, keeping the cowboy way.
Ralph Peck
Photo by Ralph Peck
Claremore Oklahoma
Will Rogers Stampede Arena 1947
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