(Cowboy with Parkinson's Disease-Alberta-1931) <br /> <br /> <br />One night I saw a wild horse pound the earth <br />as thunder saddled up astride the sky, <br />electric lariats lashed storm at birth <br />and bound the bolting clouds to try and tie <br />them shut—corralled before the rain could fall. <br />Yet downpour stung like whips; hooves sparked and crashed <br />with torrents. Spit spumed lips, eyes crazed where crawl <br />of fears washed flanks; mane’s waves in neon flashed. <br />Soon clouds ran on and cleared air’s trail for stars. <br />and morning came—that pioneer of day— <br />The chestnut blazed to badlands very far <br />from bucking storm, that other bronco stray; <br />but in my skin the stallion’s never gone. <br />What kicks will kill. It's me it kicks upon.<br /><br />Glenn Bagshaw<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-three-horses-2/
