Flossie

FLOSSIE
July 4, 2006


I like the way you wear
your flowing mane; your hair.
I like the way you dress
in roan the winds caress.
I like the way you wear
the seasons of the air;
the dew dusting your back
while trotting round the track;
the sun rising to rest
against your gentle breast;
the shadows you seek out
to shade you from the drought.
I like the way you wear
the weather anywhere;
the frost of winter morn
upon your coat its worn;
the heat of summer noon
where touch translates the rune
while hastening to dock
upon your curving hock.
I like the way the spring
allures the egret’s wing
to light upon your back
perching like feathered tack
and then to watch the leaves
descend as autumn grieves,
I like the way you wear
them in your mane; your hair.