Friday, March 23, 2007

Publish Post to Blog from Zoho Writer

EQUINE EQUINOX

Standing brightly in fields of water-washed green,

herds of ponies trot together, the northern lights in their manes.

Steam boils forth from nostrils

like hot tea spitting onto hearth stones.

Hoof upon hoof pressed into earth's lightness

and, while speaking in tongues, haunches turn wildly,

bowstrings and light rays in tendons ache to cover some ground.

An out and out gallop across shaded sand would be a fair thing today,

but as meadowlarks put feathers down, pronouncements of place, another voyage awaits.

Beyond folded fence posts in arroyos that remember nothing but sand dollar bones,

a stirring in the wind reminds the spirit-beasts of their truest nature.

They fly, felt but unseen.

Frank MacEowen (c)2001

Moss Roof, Stone Pillow: Poems of the Celtic Dreamtime

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