There are no words in my satchel
to write of the horses in the fields.
Their handsome faces turn my way
curiously questioning my intense gaze
through their Chestnut eyes unblinking.
Their beauty is in their size, their stance,
their breath in plumes of vapor from the cold.
Stance firmly ensconced in the dusty
paddock sure of their footing and their
belonging in an enclosed world.
Someone once told me that a horse
can’t see behind itself—our commonality.
Having never been close enough to touch,
My experience is beyond the fence; shaded
a bit in trepidation of this unknown entity.
Previous published in The Legacy