I wandered into a great mission bell
Symptoms I had thought undone
Dried landscape, cactus, tumbling sage brush
Full brim upon my ringing head.
Without a shining pistol to my name
No weapon had come to arm;
With my wiles I winked upon
A sweet lady resting there
Upon a wooden, well worn bench
Nestled shallow within the shade
Of two dried lips steadying the sun
And two tear drops settling in,
For in a moments recollect
In a conversation with a ghost
The history of each footprint
Came rustling quickly back
Like the wind out on a saddle
Rustling each tear, dusty
The moment had passed,
The dog returned to rest,
And ringing faded away.