This poem was inspired by a photo of someone at LCC who lived on a farm and who loved to ride out even in the snowy landscape. SNOW HORSES Ironclad, snow deep and remote— crystalline— We run in the mist— over the land— Before the sunlight’s glare Touches the barn or the two Who ride our polished backs. Wood burns, smoke rises and chimneys Are still silhouetted against the sky’s Blue and Crimson flares— announcing the dawn. Frozen in time— photographed— Our sinews stretch in the morning light : We stand—a Swift, still-moving sight. -------J.A. Strickland © March 1982 Montreal
Posted on: Sat, 27 Dec 2014 00:56:49 +0000
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