July 21, 2012 31 Comments
I watched the colt
tugging at the training bit,
sleek shoulders lined with muscle,
cutting into sand.
He rises now, like a river,
swelling into his rider’s hands
and I wondered how it would feel,
what power we would have
when his thin back broadened
and we obeyed the earth and wind.
© 2012 Louise Hastings
Written in response to dVersepoets poetics prompt ~ in Schiller’s footsteps :)