Sunday, October 21, 2012

War Horse


In my dreams I ride war horses
Deep bay Belgians big with dignity

My steeds are dressed in stately trappings
Heavy leathers and glinting armors
And rich burgundy brocade hung with
Golden tassels that flutter
and dance in the breeze

Beneath me ripple long smooth muscles
That bunch and flow as we lope free and slow
From the timbered edge of the Jerry Finn Flat
Over the grass and the sage and the prairie dogs
To the head of Tibbs Draw
And the summer country

I ride--I feel stiff wind sting--I squint my eyes
The armor tinkles and clangs to galloping time
My nostrils twitch to the sweat warm smell
Of a thundering horse as I give him his head
And the brocade sways while my hair flies
As I look behind at the dust raised
By our thudding run in the summer haze

Then my soul is as big and proud and tall
As the broad brave steed that rides my dreams
And my heart stretches from the inside out
Just to ride those stamping eager Belgians
To stand in stirrups on raging forces

And I Ride that horse

When I go to War.