Horses In The Rain Poem by Cathe Ferguson

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)