Horse Poet


The Thunderer


I stand still among the blowing grasses
And north, the growing rumble passes
A thundering of hooves upon the plain
A cloud of dust rises, no wind can contain

Over the north rise, the Thunderer appears
A gray stallion followed closely by rain tears
A furious storm follows fast upon his heels
And hell, as lightning and thunder, peals

The stallion races, galloping over the land
His mighty hooves leave prints in the sand
His silvery mane whips in the shadowed light
As he sprints to outrace the following night

As I stand still among the blowing grasses
I scarce see the silver shadow that passes
But I feel and hear the fierce stallion's cry
As the mighty, gray Thunderer passes by

Submitted: Thursday, September 14, 2006
Edited: Wednesday, September 15, 2010

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