Cowboy Yoga Class

Granny said, “Let’s stretch our souls,”
So Pa wore tights with bullet holes.
Cousin Lou tried downward steer,
Got stuck and cried into his beer.
Ma did poses with a bale of hay,
Till a goat headbutted her namaste.
Uncle Jeb found his inner peace,
Right before his pants released.
The preacher led with holy breath,
Fell flat in cow pie–smelled of death.
We had a rooster lead sun salutes,
Now he charges folks in yoga boots.
Granny balanced on a milking pail,
Then split her skirt and flashed the jail.
So if you seek your zen out here,
Prepare for dirt, livestock, and cheer.

Alan Nafzger (editor@bohiney.com)

Last Updated on January 7, 2024 by Alan Nafzger

By Alan Nafzger

Professor Alan Nafzger is the publisher of Farm.FM, writing from Wichita Falls, Texas. He earned his Ph.D. in political science with a focus on rural policy and agricultural economics, a master's degree in public administration emphasizing rural development, and a bachelor's degree in political science. Over a dual career spanning 57 years, he has taught rural policy, agricultural economics, and county administration while managing a family operation that includes farming, ranching, and dairy. The classroom and the farmstead keep each other honest: he writes about the policies he has studied and the cattle, crops, and milk checks he has actually had to live with.

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