The Spirit of the Horse

The Spirit of the Horse

There are deep impressions

in the grass,

tracks from your truck

and muddied sod

from the vet

who “put him down”

and finally

from the renderer

who took his lifeless mass away.


he took flight

In the pasture

throwing up clods of earth.

All that power and grace

so easily extinguished.

On some morning

after the last turn

in your sleep

you may hear a

whinny or a nicker

and not know

if his spirit


And all the longing

for him

divines into this unguarded


or in the stillness

of a snowscape

a moon set

will throw a shadow

and that shadow

will be a horse.

And should you run

out to the new snow

and find it

hoof pocked

it is

all because

their living

and their passing

pressed so deeply

on your mind

and in your soul.  




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Let me give you my address so that if you are in the neighborhood you can drive by, see if they’ve repainted.


Down the hill I ran, rushed not by gravity’s trail, but the scent of kilned yeast and lard cutting clean through wet dirt air.


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