A Spring Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

born of that collision......and now,
at this age....
to carry bolts....
a bucket of oats....for a gadfly's sting...

.whinny up a memory...
yes...a rider....
whose
now sightless eyes would welcome
a few drops of that same spring's healing waters.....
would
he then emote...
cry, bleed a paean to the mountain...to the mount?

you, scaleless...albeit half-saline by birth....with a forkless tongue....have coursed the skies...and beyond....

you, having found favor
...and shelter....
cannot lead him to that place.....

and I...
questioning
that it had been wisdom, as some say.....
believing
it to have been a simple sting.....

you......no, no judge....winged, yes.....but..too free to willfully inhibit glory....in its greater, lesser and appropriated forms.......

......now for those oats.....and is it going to rain this afternoon.....?