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TETON COWBOY TRIOTABLE MOUNTAIN PRAYER©Dennis LegerO Lord, when my earthly days are run
And winter‟s storm hides the sun
 Amid your highest ridges let me rest
Gathered to the earth‟s sweet breast.
 Let me soar with birds of preyUplifted by the mountain wave.In alpine meadows let me standWithin the shadow of the Grand.Cling me to your icy flowWhere secret mountain zephyrs blow.Then color me with alpenglow
Wash‟d over by the wind and snow.
 Free at last from valley rueAt the final rendezvous,Cover me with crystal white
For forever‟s cold and starry night.
 MISSING FENCES© SonnetDennis LegerWhen we looked out at early light,
I asked, “Where did our fences go?
 
They‟re missing from the fields of snow.
 A thief has been here in the night!Our lodgepole logs are gone from sight.
Those fences cost, and I don‟t knowOf anyone who‟d sink so low.
 
 Now all that‟s left out there is white!”
 I called the law about the raid.The sheriff came and looked around
He‟s always calm, you know his way.
 
He smiled and said, “Don‟t be af 
raid.Though most lost goods are never found,
I think your fences will be back in May.”
 
 
SAM © Dennis LegerSam is gone, no more remains, his cold black heart interred.
 Nothing‟s left to mark his stay, the story‟s n
ever heard.In that horseshoe canyon, high up along the way,
Who can tell you where he‟s gone, the Sam of yesterday?
 
He tilled the earth but didn‟t farm, the crop he raised was coal.
 He toiled to fill the hopper just to make his daily goal.Sam, you know, was more than one, a brave hardworking crew.Most stayed until the work was done, until were left a few.They did not search for riches, to find hidden gems or gold.They dug to earn a pittance, their souls already sold.Twelve hours a day they scratched away down in the dirty hole,Their faces stained forever with sweat and dust of coal.
They never knew what hit „em, or what they did was wrong,
 But the Big Holes won the battle when the seam of coal was gone.Sure there were bits and pieces
for hard luck miner‟s toil,
 
 Not enough to keep a man who didn‟t till the soil.
 
Sam‟s hearth and home are now all gone, lost to dirt and time,
 
Gone like Sam‟s miners. Gone like the Sam
-town mine.But could they leave the homes they won? Could they say good-by?Could all their hopes and dreams just wither away and die?
History leaves such little trace, you can‟t see what you know is true.Sam‟s soul is there among the trees
; listen to the wind blow through.
You can hear the children‟s laughter, you can
see their faces glow,
You‟ll even hear Sam‟s miners yelling from deep down in the hole.
 Their simple souls still scrape for coal; their mine output is naught.The spirits stay to work the seam that history long forgot.You hear it in the trees and wind, the Big Hole zephyrs blow,And Sam teaches us a lesson that everyone should know.Now for those who harvest all the earth provides,
There is no safe shelter from the world‟s shifting tides.
The workers are the victims, the truth they know from birth:
Expect to lose life‟s battle if your living‟s from the earth.
 
Among the ones Sam kept so warm are some who just can‟t stand
 That in your life and line of work you made your living from the land.
What they don‟t ask, the righte
ous ones, when they reach the end of the day:Who takes more from the earth? Those who dig or those who pay?
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