by Pavel Chichikov
Snorre, you Icelandic pony
You are the color of pale honey
Your mane upstanding looks like ivory –
Brown and big your eye
Stolidly your mane you toss
Yet I see you near Gulfoss
When seas of memory I cross
Ice blink in the sky
Above the cliffs of Myrdalur
Fern and other arctic verdure
Black the lava of the shore
And you are there
Eveningward is ebony
A wall of lava in the sea
Ivory vapor curls alee
The port of Heimey
Yet in amber here you stand –
A paddock made in Maryland
Keeps a memory in mind
So I can see
How can I be here and there
Behind the oaks an arctic glare?
Sharp and humid is the air
Yet this is summer
Snorre, strange the human mind
Which not to any place confined
Can wander easily through time
As though in space
If I can wander up and down
And side to side a timely town
Where beyond is bedding found –
Is there a place?
May horses also amble free
Beyond the paddock Memory?
Your eyes are globes in which I see
My own impassive face
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.