LOOKING TO THE MORNING SKY FOR HORSES- From Godfrey

Godfrey’s imagination was indeed, unbridled, how he loved sunrise, even the cold, “Bloustrious” ones.

     Why do dung beetles look to the sky?  I asked Godfrey as we left the house at dawn.( Expecting an answer typically odd) “Perhaps, he said, as I do, they look for horses in the sky, when storm clouds come loping by” Looking up as we reached the bus stop, happy as a working dung beetle I, for high above us, came the horses of the late summer sky. In from the east, waiting patient for night to roll up in her warm cloak, and welcome light. Steel grays, perfect coats of pinto, Appaloosa, strawberry and blue roan, there were golden mares, tails flying, and dark, brooding stallions out on the herds fringes, standing alone.

“Sky horses, we observed, do not hurry down the valley, but drift, close to the water silently.” “only those, like us who get out early, see the sky horses, they are shy, yet know the moon and stars intimately” Soft thud of hooves- it is only my heart beating, light mist the dew shaken from shaggy locks and manes. Brush tail foals of a new day, race each other oer the sky plains.

“Oh, my, how silly, says Godfrey, we have missed the #50 bus, swept past us as we watched the mustangs scudding by.    Roans and Appaloosas were first ones to fade into the day. Across the bay, beyond the mountains, we at last heard growing thunder, of hooves on stone, a farewell neigh.

No longer bothered, Godfrey and I, of perceived obligation or urgency, for it was Tuesday, a day to write of sky horses over coffee. A glance at his purple notebook, as he swiped a pumpkin donut from me…”I am son of a son of a silvery fish”       “A Fluviophile born, I will always be” Of course, but that is yet another story…

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4 thoughts on “LOOKING TO THE MORNING SKY FOR HORSES- From Godfrey

  1. I would like to know if the bits of the posts that read as poems are set out by you as a poem and then get squished up by WordPress, or do you write it the way I get it and leave up to your readers to find the bits that are poems all by their dear little selfies.

  2. Good question, John, I have been working on my syntax, keyboard-ness, and all, I write a lot on my commute- the #50 bus stops and starts every two minutes, and contributes to the poem/story mismash, so at times, the reader is left to sort it, as only the curious seem to. The clouds were very dramatic this day. Cheers.

  3. Your poems continue to excel. This one I found particularly moving. Your descriptions of horses — Sky horses do not hurry down the valley, but drift, close to the water silently — is compelling. I recently had the privilege of an early morning trip into the high desert country of Wyoming where I saw wild horses appear through the morning light. Your words captured what I saw and felt. Thank you, my friend.

  4. Thanks Janet- This one was born on a morning that summer got fed up with we “Fluviophles”, and left in a huff. When I saw wild horses, they were coming at eve down to water, they knew we humans were there, there were bare hooves on stone, but not so much as a snort- real quiet. Glad you saw them to.

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