Kindred Spirit

Long in the tooth,

wise glassy almonds

briefly covered by cascading lashes--

down and back up.

Entangled branches

in the wiry, choppy mane.

Bulging paunch.

No sign of a rib

under tight hide.

Arching back,

yet a mount seems absurd...

as if he would ever allow it anyway.

 

It’s difficult to imagine him

ever as a colt

with shaky, unsure legs,

a follower of another,

especially after looking into that eye again.

 

Wild and refusing to be tamed,

he knows no man,

but comfortable under his gaze,

I feel that the opposite is true.