Puerto Lobos

I camped at Puerto Lobos, a million miles from here,

I musta’ drunk a ton of their Mexicali beer.

There isn’t much that beats sleepin neath the stars,

After so much trouble in those border bars.

The seagull calls its mate as the breakers roll,

Music to my ears, and gentle on my soul.

Gazin at the stars, if Heaven only knew,

The story of my life, even if it’s true.

If there were a Padre, I’d be tempted to confess,

He’ll be here in April, the fishin boats to bless.

Here at Puerto Lobos, a man can change his ways,

And put aside the turmoil of his wilder days.

Sitting by the fire as the sun is sinkin low,

Basking in the splendor of its golden glow.

I might not get to Heaven, but I’ve seen the light,

The Lord my God is with me on this sacred night.

LDT July 20, ‘26

Puerto Lobos is a tiny fishing village on the Sea of Cortez. It’s about 60 miles via a dirt road from Caborca, Sonora.

Published by thillld