A Stone Horse

This horse wants to sink its feet
in the ground, scratch its rump
against the sky, and fill its
vacant hours with memories

of meadows, scented hay and
sweet green grass. A dusty road
to run and run on, and to gallop
over the juices of earth, and to

never return from where it came.
And when it sleeps, it dreams of
hurdling those night black trees,
of a rider's voice, a horn, a saddle.

This horse, a carved vein of stone,
wants to set itself free on ground.