chestnut mare – August 6


turning the corner I see a horse

nobbing its head against the end

of the fencing. the long neck rolls

and twists, stretching then upward

to flex the muscles while a subcutaneous

shimmer washes back down towards

its side.


ride cowboy ride. I grew up watching

men I thought were my heroes astride

such beautiful animals, and acting as if

they all were pals. the men were in real

life not quite as noble as they were made

nor the horses quite as well cared for, yet

there was a truth.


large deep eyes rise now to gaze at me,

an ear rises, then flicks, and a stare seems

to fix me before that great head turns to

walk slowly away towards a distant pasture.

I would have liked to run my fingers down that

long velvet face, till it nodded down into a sugar cube

in my hand. but I had none to offer, and only a yearning

left over from my youth.


(with a nod for Roger McGuinn)


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