Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Horse Storm

the heavy tongue of summer rain
licks away the mesa heat
the pewter sky rumbles
its long low grievances

the young gelding trembles
his rich pasture criss-crossed
with silver rain-threads
nostrils flared, eyes unblinking

in a quick flicker of bit and rein
she has caught and clasped him,
steel black, wet-backed
and seal-slick beneath her

as he moves, liquid muscle
the sky breaks open - a mirror shard
splintering of magnesium white
thunder's pulse shudders

she imagines sparks showering
into the soaked ropes of his mane
neither afraid, he gathers
rolls and churns, a sanguine cloud

(c) 2006

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