Bryce Angell is a cowboy poet. Angell was raised on a farm/ranch in the St. Anthony, Idaho area with approximately 75 head of horses. Horses remain an important part of Angell’s life.

Angell shares his poetry with Cache Valley Daily every Friday.

I listened while she talked about her horse ride in the rain. She said, ”My ride was
so breathtaking, I just can’t explain!”

But I’ve been riding in the rain, and it don’t turn my crank. There’s nothing worse
than riding wet. You can take that to the bank.

I’d like to take you back, let’s say, a year or two ago. Our trail ride started early,
but little did we know.

All morning long I’d eaten dust. It coated my new shirt. And when I blew my nose
I wondered, “Boogers or just dirt?”

At last we finally stopped for lunch right next to Horseshoe Lake. The campfire
coals were ready for the smokies and some steak.

The meat was barely cooked to rare. I heard a thunder crack. I guess I hadn’t
realized the sky was dang near black.

I looked to my old saddle, not a raincoat anywhere. Then fumbled through the
bags and only found a glove in there.

The rain weren’t just a sprinkle, but a torrent carousel. The lightning and the
thunder came a screaming straight from Hell.

Now soaking wet and freezing, I was pondering in my brain. I’ll bet Gene Kelly
really hated “Singing in the Rain.”

The horse in front was kicking chunks of mud smack in my face. I must have
stayed the saddle through an act of Devine grace.

I’ve heard men talk of wondrous sights they’ve witnessed in their years. But the
sight of my old Chevy truck sure brought me close to tears.

Now I’ve learned to wear a raincoat, doesn’t matter what we’ve planned. Mother
Nature’s unpredictable. She’s got the upper hand.

And when I hear how someone loves to ride out in the rain. I think I’ll keep my
big mouth shut. That person can’t be sane.



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