The Cowboy Found Me Here 

I only met him once at 14.
He went by Ryan; he was a cowboy.
The kind that wears a hat and boots.
I found him in Wyoming.
He told me about time spent in the wilderness.
How he would pack a bag and mount his horse and be gone for days.
He talked about bears, and wolves, and seasons.
He spoke of peaks and valleys, trees high and rivers low.
He showed me how to ride horseback into the mountains.  

There was an understanding, something between him and the wild.
There was a freedom, there was him and the endless west.
Time passed as I compare my life to his.
I remember him in the hills of Scotland, this land so similar to his.
The Caledonian pine here too as it is for him in his woods.
I become a lone ranger as I journey into the wild.
I see a figure in a hat and boots on the ridge of a mountain and I wonder how he found me here.

Text by Ruth Daniels
Edited by Samuel Bilcliff