He could sleep in a boxcar
As easily as he could sleep
In a gully off a dirt prairie road.
Ah, but he did prefer a loft
In an unlocked barn best of all.
He always said there were fewer snakes
To worry about there than in either of the other
Two beds - the two legged or the belly slithering kind.

Food was always good when it was
Handed out through a back door
Or served over the side fence by those
Who entertain angels, unknown.
He never felt like an impostor,
Knowing as he did that he was allowing
Each prairie worn woman the
Opportunity to get close to God,
Serving briefly between endless
And homely chores.

No one missed the pair of socks
He snatched from the far yard rope line;
But he took great care to leave the muddy
Boots on the side porch just
Exactly where he found them.
The man of the earth lacked the generous,
Helping spirit of his good woman.

He talked of seeing Texas one day.
And he heard good things about Colorado.
In the spring, he went up to Winnipeg.
He could not know it would be his last summer.