In the early morning sparkle,
I heard her song while I worked among the turnips
While each bit of dirt clung to fingers
And weeds were moved to give room.
On my knees next to the water trough
I saw her dress, white gossamer flowered thing,
Cross my vision through the spray and splash
Heard her song drift through each part of home.
Smelt the scent of her legs telling of the heat of the coming day
I heard her drift to the hills
And from the ridge,
While I brushed the roan mare,
Felt my muscles tense and work and sweat
And begin to ache for her,
I sensed her top the hill, she moved and slipped,
Away from me.
The day, her day, slipped past with each stroke of the brush,
this thing we call life,
Til slowly sinking
into the supporting weight of the beast
In front of me, to the pony of my dreams,
Legs finally too tired,
I wrapped my arms around her, felt the soft strength and
Patient heart next to me,
With every beat of a great heart,
With every sunrise,
And every spinning planet,
Moving and dancing
To the Ridge where my spirit still goes,
Come night, come a festival day,
To dance with her and them and those
Hearts of mine,
You must log in to post a comment.