They are there just the same
unvisited for years
in dark stalls of old barns
behind them deep shadows
endless musty straw
striding rhythms long unheard
The hooves
have been called by thunder
thunder that has moved on
but these wait unmoved in their stalls
rows of half moons
for another life
ahead of them
barn doors lead out to tall bluegrass
untouched
for all my riding
© Crane 2006
