The horses on a hillside
Grazing in the sun
Creatures never ridden
No pulley for a cart
Dark and sleek and careless
Heavy in their English field
Muscled in the heart
Descendants of the Pegasus
Strong and stubborn born
To carry an unbroken line
Out running our human time
Run for water, run from fear
For food, run from a man
For a filly, to a child
Eating from an infant hand
A stallion running over here
Approaching my despair
Bearing me no harm, I see
Sunlit creature from a field
Caught in the need for nurture
And the longing to be wild
Teach me to be careless too
Show me how to follow
Tracks cut through the meadows deep
In the land of Blake and Keats
Cutting through their tragedies
Into the dens of night
Tracks to guide the horses home
Trails to bring them safely in
Where they spread their ancient wings
And escape in flight.
*****
Click here for more poems by Richard Morgan
Comments
Post a Comment
Please ensure you leave your name, bei either selecting your google account (if you have one), or selecting 'name' from the drop down menu. Enter your name there. If confused, leave your name in the text of your comment.