One grows to love the smell of horses
and urine-soaked hay
With the Chesapeake behind it…dung in the stables
Stars in the pasture… leather
and spring rain
Your whole body slips
into the confluence
Of hoof and sail, withers tremble
Easy Clifford plods paths of sojas
and boysenberry
Trail dust settles softly
on the waters of the brain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem