I spied him, standing on a knoll
His silver sculptured neck and poll
Bent taught like an ancient archers bow,
Cascade of mane like falling snow
His form like carved and shimmering stone
Upon his knoll he stood, alone.
I watched him there as I passed by,
A perfect silhouette against the sky.
I called him, soft. He whickered low.
Would he come? or would he go?
I held my breath …. He crossed the land
And dropped his nose into my waiting hand.
Jen Whyte
1972
brummieboy
Absolutely beautiful writing Jen ….
Irene Burdell
A really superb poem Jen.
Jen Whyte
Thank you! Can you tell I love horses …. laughing! they have been my life!
Sharon Perrett
Beautiful words Jen, your love for them shines through :))
brendalee
nicely put. horses are a beautiful spirit, I love my horses so very much
toots
Outstanding work!
Jon C
Wonderful!! When I read the poems on here I often wish I could write poetry….Sadly I can’t so I take my hat off to all of you on RB that write so well.
PhotogeniquE IPA
delightfully put