Post by anirbas on Oct 1, 2006 16:51:31 GMT -6
In the chilled, morning bright air;
the rising butter yellow sun,
spreads warm gold beams
across a rolling green field,
of winter grass.
The hard light, transforms the dewkissed surface
into a brillant, sparkling sheet of pave diamonds.
Liquidically winking and glittering;
a veritable blanket of crest fallen, shooting stars.
Entranced, I pull my truck to the shoulder of the road.
Just to drink this once in a lifetime vision in.
For several long moments, nothing moves nor mars
this surrealistically beautiful, natural tableau.
And then, it does. But, not regrettably so.
In fact, the fairytale ambiance, is heightened.
For what should appear, to my wide, staring eyes,
seemingly, from nowhere; having been hidden,
in a wrinkled fold of land;
but a stately, throng of equinic queens!
Strolling regally, nonchalantly,
over the gently, curved lip of a rise;
and onto the crushed gem laden, pasture.
As though the rare carpet, had been laid in advance;
in honor of the statuesque herd's very appearance.
Quarterhorse broodmares,
redded hides of auburn, mahogany, and titian;
now thickened with cold weather hair.
Backs swayed, some none so gently;
bellies rounded, gravidly full;
moving with the life
slowing their steps;
as they await the birthing
of springtime foals.
~Sabrina
1/2005
the rising butter yellow sun,
spreads warm gold beams
across a rolling green field,
of winter grass.
The hard light, transforms the dewkissed surface
into a brillant, sparkling sheet of pave diamonds.
Liquidically winking and glittering;
a veritable blanket of crest fallen, shooting stars.
Entranced, I pull my truck to the shoulder of the road.
Just to drink this once in a lifetime vision in.
For several long moments, nothing moves nor mars
this surrealistically beautiful, natural tableau.
And then, it does. But, not regrettably so.
In fact, the fairytale ambiance, is heightened.
For what should appear, to my wide, staring eyes,
seemingly, from nowhere; having been hidden,
in a wrinkled fold of land;
but a stately, throng of equinic queens!
Strolling regally, nonchalantly,
over the gently, curved lip of a rise;
and onto the crushed gem laden, pasture.
As though the rare carpet, had been laid in advance;
in honor of the statuesque herd's very appearance.
Quarterhorse broodmares,
redded hides of auburn, mahogany, and titian;
now thickened with cold weather hair.
Backs swayed, some none so gently;
bellies rounded, gravidly full;
moving with the life
slowing their steps;
as they await the birthing
of springtime foals.
~Sabrina
1/2005
roar, roar, roar!
