In which poetry is one of those things I spend time with each morning
I love Garrison Keillor. I love his voice, I love his humor, and I love his Writer's Almanac. And I love the poem he featured yesterday, and want to share it with the horse-loving blogosphere...with photos from Haiku Farm.
"Gold Horse, Brown Horse" by Candace Black
In the pasture behind
the house, an island of berries
ripens in the summer
heat. They will grow
plump, darker than garnets, then shrivel
away, or rotting, fall
to the brambles, tasted only by birds,
They watch from a distance as you
whistle, their ears shifting with each
how to take the offered
apple, even from a child's hand.
shies from the gold one.
only when he moves on, and then
You stroke her forehead's
blaze, give her your palm to smell,
two horses rolling in the afternoon dust.
p.s. Although Mr Keillor's staff requests and receives permission from publishers to post poetry online, I do not, and my "staff" (Luna) does not. Read and enjoy, before the copyright police come a-knocking.
Coming soon: another scary story!