by Pavel Chichikov
Unable since to work or rest
I visited the horsemen's fair
To see the swiftest animals
And working horses pulling there
There was a horse of opulence
An ivory mane, a rein of gold –
A grey horse of deliverance
The color of an ashen coal
I saw a stallion of grace
Whose saddle was of juniper
A chestnut mare of gentleness
Whose eye was like the blackest plum
There I saw a crippled horse
Kicking, biting, hard to hold
And that was mine, the one to lead
To feed with hay and millet grain
I drew it by a leather rein
And watered at a running stream,
Sponged the flanks beneath the shade
And curried with an alder stem
Then I grasped it by the mane
And leapt a seat across its back –
And who will follow us aloft
On that prophetic riding track?
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
