John Allen Richter
John Allen Richter Poems
|41.||A Dorothy Parker Kind'A Sexy||1/11/2015|
|44.||Odd Little Man||3/23/2015|
|45.||The Old Walnut Tree||1/20/2015|
The brown tipped grass peeked through the snow -
With stems quite cold and forlorn.
The north gale came and so winds did blow
and nodded their heads in form.
As for I, a moonlit ride -
on my horse, steady and slow.
With her cold and shivering skin below -
I said 'Not much further to go.'
She low'r'd her head, and back again,
to ring her bridle bell.
As if to say 'Why dear friend,
did you put us in winter's hell? '
'Well, ol' nag, it's like this, you see…
for forty nights I've been alone.
And down the creekbed lives Miss Weatherby,
If Heaven's path were made for one
and ne're a choice but to walk alone
then I wonder what should become
of my absence in God's lovely home…
For surely I would stop on the path
to admire the birds and bees…
and dance within the machair fields
among cattails and other weeds…