This is a North American poem, not a European poem. Thus the place of horses is very fresh three hundred years ago. Horses appear to have started in the new world. They died out somehow on the way to modern horses, but not before emigrating to Asia and Europe. After a very long time, Europeans returned them to the new world. The first nations of the plains found horses a blessing from God and the buffalo.
Looking For Your Place
I sit at my desk
watching you bareback your horse
as if born to it
three hundred years past
your time on the grassy plains
with mountains westward,
peaked with summer snow
and you looking for
your place in that time.
June 10, 2009 12:43 PM
Contraction
1 week ago
Very beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
ReplyDeleteAs i was riding a horse last weekend, i deeply enjoy the relationship with the horse.
ReplyDeleteHow would it have been to live a life like that. I romanticize, it might have soothed me, but here i am; Me, this time.
Perhaps it was you I saw out my window.
ReplyDeleteYou say so much with so little. You make me feel verbose...fat with words. Not sure I like the feeling. Perhaps a word diet in order. Hmmmmmm
ReplyDeleteAnnie, you know that many of my other posts have gone longer than a typed page. My replies here in the comments too go onandon. It matters alot what is going on, and how much energy I have. My inclination is to knowitallism. You can't get that done in a few sentences. Most of the knowitall heart is found in the midst of embellishment and posture.
ReplyDelete