Some Hour - Gail Onion

[Lawrence Robinson]

Some Hour

The old horse 
grazing in the meadow
looks up 
ambles over to the gate
and waits for you,
and why not greet love
another time,
what’s love if not     
a meadow,
a sea shore, 
a mysterious path 
into the forest,
a cottage, or
at the end of a lane
open to travelers
to share their tales,
a library 
of room after room 
shelves of books
offering themselves
into your hands,
a way station 
on a mountain
where a stranger
sitting alone
beckons you
to take the empty chair,
a rowboat docked at the pier,
you climb aboard, 
it rows you out to sea,
a dream where a talking raven
says that the sacred
is a little farther, a little brighter,
a ladder of starlight where 
the moon steps off
and you follow the moon,
a little deeper, a little darker,
until you are where love is,
where the old horse is waiting.

	- Gail Onion
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.sonic.net/pipermail/poetrylovers/attachments/20251216/e98648f1/attachment.htm>