his nostril snort
louder than any I make
with my mouth
A flick of an ear, then a tail
how the flies scatter
& oh,
how he drops his head
to nibble a weed
Only a little skittish
with riders
how his flanks feel
my pressed legs, and
he knows me
& understands that
I know him
with a kick
and a forward flick
of the reins
he gallops across
the open trail
our bodies, at one
swaying up and down
our own tide
a draft in my face
a frantic beating heart
A slight pull back,
a “whoa”and he slows
to canter, then trot
where would our lives be
without horses?
Why would
we ever want
to find out?
Dora pubtends Poetics over at dVerse, where our inspiration today is horses.
The pub is open! Come join us!
Frank J. Tassone 
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