Poems ✍️

Was it the devil resting on
my rubber booted foot?
He drank for an eternity,
his mane reminding me
that flies abound in sulphur air
the weight was overwhelming now,
a hoof so sharp, of Clydesdale size,
a gentle, crushing giant.
The memory of that event
has lingered now for years,
the more I live the more I fear
it was the foot of Satan.
Perhaps the horse, for just one day,
a kindred spirit unbeknownst,
to both of us, but devils scorned,
sees wooden stakes aimed at the heart
of evil aimed at beast and man.
There was a scent that made me stand
in warming touch, unspoken words,
so close that it attracted him
a grimacing mad face.
Yet in the face of balmy heat
and feral understanding
two souls so distant, under par
unite in harmony.