"Garments"

 I wore my Grandfather's hat today
Strange notions of thought filled my ears
Searching for lost cattle herds behind my glasses
Feeling a dry Texas sun on my face.

His old jacket on a hook by a ranch doors freedom
It hung loosely on my frame like a cloak
I was transformed into a Marlborough Man with a lean chiseld frame
Clean lines of thought in a Whip-Cord fabric costume.

I found his boots in a dusty closet
Laying there like old bums leaning against each other in a dark alley
Wearing them I itched for stirrups under my soles
His boots took me down cow tracks...walking across a prairie.

An outstretched hand in the shape of a Cottonwood tree
Skeletal fingers raking blue skies of a winter's morning
There I found his ghost sitting naked...waiting
Reaching for his clothes..."Thanks" was all he said.

DS Baker