Bio: Wrangler 1983; Volunteer, 2015-2019
Descriptor: From Wrangler to Volunteer, White Grass heals and draws one back.
William’s Story: My poem starts when I came to White Grass in 1983 a broken man. The ranch was my healing place. Thirty three years later, I returned as a volunteer, bonded with other volunteers most of whom returned each year, and forged another White Grass Family.
The sun rose every morning,
Even on my darkest days.
The sun rose every mornin,
when my heart could find no praise.
To loose ones all
When ones heart goes blank,
To loose ones all
When ur soul has sank.
There is a place beneath the Tetons Range,
Where Static peak does rise.
A Canyon’s breadth it’s name is Death,
Below a ranch does lie.
A spirit of intrigue this ranch you see,
Of it’s captives it does draw.
For years ago it stole my heart from me,
As with others, Newtons Theory Law.
What power the memory I do cling,
That draws me back to be,
Beneath the shadows of Buck Mtn,
To wander the Ranch so free.
Each summer come the first of June,
A gathering the Ranch does trace.
The workers come from miles and miles,
The Ranch to greet each joyful face.
Once strangers our little group to be,
now friends for ever more.
The Ranch it’s hook is set.
It’s catch? Each compadres lore.
For just as me so long ago
each friend a tale does tell.
How some unknown driving force,
their heart, faintly, the tinkling bell.
For each as in the ranch horse day
we wear a bell to jingle.
The Ranch wranglers ear pealed to hear,
each our bell’s faint tingle.
He herds us back each passing year,
Each across our mountains pass.
To the Ranch we race at astounding pace,
Back to our beloved White Grass.
Written October 1, 2018, William ‘Dub’ Lloyd
White Grass Volunteer Group, June 2018.