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Bernie
Hoof Prints on the Wind ©
09 Nov 1998
The Sky is covered with clouds of iron,
In billowed harrowed rows.
Waves of geese flee before a chill tide,
Its cutting edge a scout for winter.
Fields have yielded their riches,
Littered now with desiccated mummies
Once lush with fullness of warmth and water,
Orphaned now by the fading season.
My old horse and I work in the breeze,
Swirls of dust are hoof prints on the wind,
Each canter as a gentle prayer,
Thanks that we are here, and that we can.
In the barn, a new dog greets me,
With festive fur and musical eyes;
I am the sun for him, glowing heart,
My pagan worshipper with cold nose.
Hay bales waft summer scent dreams,
Guarded by small cat dozing fiercely,
Waits for head scratch, proper attention,
Seeks in a warm lap sanctuary.
It is not that the air is chill,
But that time flows unceasing.
Our lives are radiant swirls of dust,
Unheard echoes of hoof prints on the wind.
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Disclaimer - To our knowledge, all graphics used
at this site are public domain or used with the author's permission. If you spot any
artwork that is not properly credited, please contact kyrabeth@dressageunltd.com.
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