Crossing the road
is always
more difficult
than just gazing down
its limits.
A storm pelts the horizon’s rim,
(I can see the lightning
from here.)
and a remote windchime is carried
to my tingling ears.
Somewhere in this world -
when my singular, precious
time with you was over -
you were led
(probably not with docile steps)
to sheltered moonlit stalls,
where your blue eyes
would peer from the darkness
like sparks
in a furnace.
How often did I laugh,
or just peer cautiously…
wonderingly…
into their icy-white-blue
abyss?
Your coal-black mane
in tangled, hopeless snarls
upon your neck,
soaked up many a tear
and kept me in balance
on many bareback rides -
slipping under wind-stroked
sun-washed
sweet-scented Carolina pines.
No other creature
reacted as you did -
with as much fervor
or head-tossed retaliation to life.
I long stretch my fingers out
to touch you -
to wrap my arms in abandon
around your supple, burnished neck.
I miss those moments
when I knew you were mine.
Shawnee,...
And it seems so long ago.
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