If only man did not tether us
we would fly widdershins,
kick up clods at the sun,
make clouds of turf swirl round our heels.
Instead we pace and crib to get high
in the sterile gold stalls of Olympus.
Here the social feed smells mean
and riders mimic predators.
Remember life’s galloping communions.
Dream back before foot-binders forged in.
On that land no Pegasus is ever broken.
In that wind our kind never fell.
Godspeed to love like thunder
on hooves of prayer.
– in memory of Pheraby Elizabeth Stricklin
Sylvia Thunder Bird says
Watt,
I so appreciate your Pheraby Elizabeth Stricklin tribute poem. You have brought a loving, chain-like lemniscate of images into my heart. Through your gentle words, a winged Spirit Horse gallops free …
Sylvia )O(