Rain rioted down cannons
and barrels of flesh.
It dripped into stockings,
rinsed stars white and fresh;
poured on the bays and
ran down their docks,
watered the chestnut
and the appy's bright spots.
It mixed with the paint
'til its patches were soaked,
and filled all the rills
where frogs never croaked
but hid in the mud
among crescent tracks
made by the gruellas,
the claybanks and blacks.
(This was written January 27,2005)
Cathe, a lot of clever work is incorporated here, I wonder if even horse people will get all the double meanings? It took the second read before I got some of them (where frogs never croaked) very clever write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This wonderful poem gets better every time I read it.
Thank you! What a nice thing to say!