A poem About A Man who loved the Ozarks.

Laid Down His Spurs

This man worked the

land he loved for

over seventy years.

He started with

empty pockets

bought nothing

without cash

or something to trade.

Long days of hard labor

until he reached

into his seventies.

Then – he took

pleasure in his abilities

to be the best

 in hunting and fishing.

His pleasures in life

soon gave way to a

world of darkness.

His dark eyes chained

Him to his chair

Yet … it NEVER

claimed his mind or spirit.

On the night

God called him home,

he laid down his spurs…

and left the

             flowers

                  turn

                      brown.

© By Mary Nida Smith

Written in memory of my father-in-law

Edd W. Smith

Wendell, Idaho

Died June 4, 1986

Born and raised in NW Arkansas