The Four O'clock Cowgirl

She comes in from the fields
Matted hat hair,
Dirt painted face
The look and smell 
Of a rugged rodeo clown.
Her haggardness hangs in the air
Like a cloud of dust.

And then she smiles.

A smile like the bloom
Of a 'four o'clock' in the late
Afternoon.  
The rarity of the hour 
She opens up.
A short lived beauty
Worth the other twenty three.

Fools only see the beauty in the hour.
I always  see 
The beauty of the flower.

Robert Collier's Questions:

I learned to write in the class room of Elton Glasier, but that was over ten years ago, I have little time to write, but it is becoming more important to me.

  This work is typical of my skills, I know the last three lines need a lot of work and probably much more than that..  Because I don't have much time to write  your help would be greatly appriciated. 

Thanks.