We sit beside the dying embers of the fire,Where pines reach upward, jagged, tall, and dark.The nylon snaps against the rising mountain wind,And in the quiet, I can still observe your mark.I see you standing on the rugged, dusty range,Commanding every breath, demanding every eye. Press, do not pull, you taught, Align the sights beneath the empty sky. You built the foundation the trade and craft, With steady hands and humor sharp and clear.You showed the kids how to hold the line as one, And how to stand against the rising fear. Now you have pitched your tent beyond the stars, On Fame's eternal, quiet camping-ground.But in the forest and the echoing steel, Your lasting instruction remains profound. The chase is over, and your bivouac is set, Beneath a canopy of cactus and endless night. We'll carry forward every lesson that you gave, Until the day we join the fading light.