A Poem a Day (621): The dappled horse

 
The dappled horse (a blues poem)
 
Long legs set deep in the mud, saddleless, he stands still,
stares straight ahead, legs in the mud so deep, so quietly still.
He raises neither head nor tail, a dappled statue on the hill.
 
Two shire horses sweep their tails, peek through the foliage,
ivy framing the two fellows, finding gaps in the foliage,
they neither bother nor notice the solitary fellow on edge.
 
He has a story to tell, this old nag with the worn-out bones.
When the children come calling, he feels them deep in his bones,
forgets the time in the shivering snow when no one heard his groans.
 
Back on the Old Man’s farm, he’d be left in the yard, tied to a tree.
He never went beyond that farm, shackled as he was to that tree.
When the Old Man died, he took a while to realise he was free.
 
Now he stands still in the same spot in the midst of this open field,
just because he doesn’t have to stand in this spot in this open field,
but this is where he chooses to stand, deep in the mud, now he’s wild.  
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, February 22, 2024