Equine

April 28, 2011
Bush-baby black eyes

looking

seeking

searching.

Ears on steroids

forever moving

switching

twitching

turning

listening for what may not be heard.

Mane like the night

star speckled and white

mangled and tangled with hay.

Mottled brown coat

only in light

at dark he is one with the trees

he is gone from the earth

until first light

then he re-appears.

The perfect creature,

that he is not

with personality as large as the sky

and a head as hard as stone.

A kick is prone to be declined

you

say

go

he

says

no

the debate proceeds from there.

Like no other horse,

unexplainable

of course

only one word describes this thing...

Joe





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