poet Sheena Blackhall

Sheena Blackhall

Horse

It is easy to love a horse.
Affectionate exchanges
Are straightforward.

He is not jealous,
He does not demand more
Than his due;
When you walk away,
He does not taunt,
Whine or grovel.

If you step aside
To clap a passing dog,
He does not complain
Pettily or bitterly.
It is easy to love a horse.

His eyes are perfect almonds
Filled with pools of moonlight,
Fringed by lashes, bulrush-black
And exquisitely formed.

When you stroke his flank
His eyes slip shut in ecstasy.
Run your cool palm
Down the warm chute of his face
And he will tilt his head
Into your side like a tired lover
Nudging you to stay.

Flaring delicate nostrils,
He draws up
The skin curtain of his lips,
Nichering softly.

His mane smells of the wind -
I breath him in.
Like a struck tuning fork,
I resonate with
Echoes of barns,
Sun-hot meadows of hay -
He has me harnessed.
Almost, I neigh with happiness.

Poem Submitted: Sunday, June 14, 2009
Poem Edited: Tuesday, July 14, 2009

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