Prancing Horses Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Underneath this perfect day sorrow hides
Be brave soul of mine the light is at work
Life heads toward eternal joy
Walk the fields like Eleanor Roosevelt
Think not of greatness
Remember, every working man is a hero
Pariah with an invisible army

I am the green of Ireland
Old streets with their chins up
Wrestle with the Angel of the Lord
Carved into something worth while
Sifted until the apples shake
Engraved humility embraces calling
Our love avenges our death

The prancing horses on a gray day