I never had a horse, never rode a horse,
knew only Champion, Trigger and Silver,
mounts familiar through oaters. The lack
didn’t keep Mother from chastising me
for getting up on my high horse, telling me
not to get the cart before the horse,
or declaring You lack horse sense!
About the nearest I got to horses
was to sawhorses in Father’s workshop,
though I did touch Nashua on the nose
back in the day when casual visitors
could get close to equine royalty.
And I was damn close to horse while flirting
with a career in jazz piano.
Today, living in the self-styled
Horse Capital of the World, I enjoy
horses dotting the countryside, artistic
renderings by Andre Pater, the camera eye
of Tony Leonard, sculptures by Gwen Reardon
and the whimsical steeds of Horse Mania,
but I despair of politics and wonder
if the current climate signals
the coming of the Pale Horse.