cowboy boats

She's stepping out in cowboy boats.
She'll walk on water, one step two 
and doe see doe in sailor suit
of buckskin fringe: a she-galoot.

A bright first mate in search of ship! 
She'll pace and mosey seven seas
to every harbor, through each storm 
she'll tack her hat and set her face, 

And squint into the wind with ease. 
Sometimes with glee. A rover born, 
and raconteur. But all she wants 
is one fair ship - seaworthy, fine 
in cut of jib and so much more

- to hie in view by windcaught sail.
To hail, wave hi, so high on wavy
hill, to see the ship tack back and in,
and towards - for lil' ol' me? A hand
reach down and grasp with will, and pull
for her. To let her step

out of these seas, to live.
And find worth living still.
A journey undertaken, bet
and dare and guess rolled
on one wave.

Two tied-first mates,
to sunsets set. Out on these seas, 
this rolling range, there is no miss 
in misbehave.