Poems May 2004
Traveler
An old horse in Appalachian rain
I stand at tether since the storm began,
remembering the first meadow where a man
taught me the bridle and the mouth-bit's pain.
Later he tutored me to thrill to the rein,
love quirt and spur, love even the span
of rib-pinching saddle-straps. And how we ran,
my hooves chipping flint-stars, all fiery my mane!
the earth. My back has become a map:
Manassas, Chickamauga and Bull Run
blooded me, Appomatox cinched the strap.
Now Alexander, Caesar and Napoleon
reel on an old horse tethered to a fence.
A Message from the Editors
Support our crucial work and join us in strengthening the bonds of civilization.
Your donation sustains our efforts to inspire joyous rediscoveries.
This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 22 Number 9, on page 30
Copyright © 2024 The New Criterion | www.newcriterion.com
https://newcriterion.com/issues/2004/5/traveler