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The Old Ranch Truck - Western Poetry :)

Mark.y

Registered User
The Old Ranch truck

I work this ranch my father worked, as his father did before him

In times when moneys been plentiful, and others when it’s been slim.



My great grandpa had it harder then, as he did everything by hand.

But he persevered; he loved this place, so it was here that he took his life’s stand.



Each post hole dug, each wire stretched, each bale of hay that was moved.

Was earned by sweat, and an aching back, back then life wasn’t that smooth.



Instead of harnessing horses, or breaking them not to buck

I have the luxury of a covered cab, and the ease of driving this truck.



In storms it is my shelter, in the heat it is my shade

And when it comes to hauling things, I thank God that it was made.



My family’s full of Masons, from great grandfather on

And sitting in this truck one day, I thought about the time that has gone.



I got this truck the very day, I turned in my petition

And it occurred to me, the state it is in, and the similarities in their condition.



Our ranch is much like Masonry, hard work is its demand

But it always gives you back two fold, your investment in its plan.



I remember being so excited, the possibilities endless

This truck I sat in every day, and proficiencies my business.



Grandpa asking every day, the same as my impatient dad

“How’s that proficiency comin’ boy?” “I’m getting there” I’m Glad”



Back then this truck was spotless, a beauty to behold

And Masonry warmed my inner thoughts, as this truck sheltered me from the cold.



I was finally raised a Master, I drove this truck that night

And while driving home, the engine purred, as my heart was filled with might



My mind alit with allegory, wondering what to expect.

When the tires broke loose, on the icy road, and I almost had a wreck.



I caught my breath, my heart still racing, I thanked God that I was spared

I made my way back on to the road and proceeded home with more care.



Work continued on the ranch, as winter turned in to spring.

And although I attended lodge regularly, I felt I hadn’t learned a thing.



I met several men, from around our fair town, that our paths would not have crossed otherwise

But mostly I sat with the men that I knew, I was a little shy around the other guys.



I finally met a Past Master, who took me by the ear,

and told me I needed to participate, “Don’t worry there’s nothing to fear”



He taught me of the allegory, he taught me of the signs

And I remember thinking, I was glad, he was so kind



I took one part, not a real big one, but then soon I took another

And soon I felt, I’d learned enough, that I’d earned the title of “Brother”



I worked my way, up through the chairs, and in time I was called “Past Master”

Then backed my efforts down a notch, it’s was another’s turn to be the answer



It was a Saturday morning late in June, I was working fence and was spent.

When one cow kicked at another, and missed, kicked my truck, caused a dent.



I thought to myself, “It’s not that bad, not really worth taking to town”

So I finished the job, drove back to the house, ate dinner, went and laid down



I returned to the lodge in September. All Ready to start all anew

When It was discovered, attendance lacked that night, so I returned to my home feeling blue.



For years this whole trend continued, “come if you want to come”

We got very few things accomplished, and the excitement once felt, just went numb.



Another dent, another scratch, and no attention was paid

That first small dent had taken its toll, the condition began to fade.



As I think back, I think to myself, the comparison can be made

The dent in my truck, that was never repaired, and the meetings that could have been saved.





The opportunity I think, existed back then, to make a few calls and to fix it

And in both of these cases, the effort was lost, and the outcome just accepted.

Now I sit here in this beat up old truck, that once was shiny and new

And think to myself, of the excitement it brought, much like masonry when it came to view.



This old truck, could be like new again, given a little attention

And the lodge with some effort, can flourish again, and carry on its fine traditions.

In both of these cases, the answer is clear, who’s responsible for this work.

The answer is me, as I’ve come to see, each one of us could be this spark.



I’ll call all my Brothers from near and from far, and tell them that there is a meeting.

Or go to their homes, with friends or alone, and hope that their care was not fleeting.



Open and close, a wonderful sight, for a lodge where it has been lacking

And hope there are men, who have the same plan, and I will enjoy some backing.



Dents can be fixed, damage repaired, and this truck like the lodge can still thrive

The lessons are there, in the teaching we are aware, in this case it is the beehive.


Make ourselves busy, make ourselves sharp, do everything that we can

And now I’m off to the city boy’s, to find me a good body man.



For if there is something worth saving, and your love for it still exists

I believe all you need is the effort, and the willingness to persist.

So fix all your dents, as they appear, from this work, it is the lesson

And your lodge can be there, for your children to share, in your family’s tradition



Mark S. Young
 
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