Ask me to show you poetry in motion, and I will show you a horse ~Unknown
To see her is to love her, and love but her forever, For nature made her what she is.
My horse be swift in flight. Even like a bird; My horse be swift in flight. Bear me now in safety. Far from the enemy arrows, And you shall be rewarded With streamers and ribbons red. ~Sioux warrior's song to his horse
Somewhere in time's own space There must be a sweet pastured place Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow Some paradise where horses go For the love that guides my pen I know the great ones live again.
Small Victory by canadian songwriter Garnet Rogers:
"You've no business buying a mare like that, but buy her if you must! He bit the end off his cigar and spat it in the dust. She's old, she's lame and barren too, she's not worth feed and hay, but I'll give her this---he blew smoke at me---she was something in her day! I recall her well ten years ago, she was a winner in her prime. She was fast and lean and willing, but they raced her past her time. Though she had the heart, her legs were gone and it wasn't hard to see, they kept her at it in the hopes of just one small victory. She was shunted round from track to track from Kentucky up to Maine. They'd run her in cheap claimers all doped-up to mask her pain. And if it's my advice you want, he said, the poor thing's had her day. You'd be throwing good cash after bad---it's best you turned away." "They led her round the auction tent and the bidding started low. She'll go for dog food, someone said, the market's been that slow. But she raised her head and she pricked her ears and before the hammer fell, she was mine. My friend turned round to me: you're soft-headed, I can tell! But she's been pushed from pole to pole said I, and always done her best. They used her up, they wrung her dry. I think she deserves a rest. And if she does not but end her days beneath some shady tree, I'll have saved her from the knacker's yard, and that's enough for me!
Well, that was near two years ago---she's filled out some since then. The more so since she's been in foal---she eats enough for ten! And last night as I crept to the barn, along 'bout half past three, there stood trembling on her newborn legs, one more small victory."