Partners In Folly
Three of a kind for as long as we can
remember. Parents would shake their heads,
wonder when we’d grow up and get serious
about serious stuff. We egged each other
on. “Did you see that strawberry roan
in the field on the way to school?” “I’ll loan
you my book of ranch-girl poems!”
We loved dogs and anything with hooves,
and words that rhymed or not, that made
sense in a westwind sort of way.
We rode our imaginations bareback.
We never grew up. And now it’s come
to this – no Cowboy Poetry this year
for the old-west Wagon Train event. We’ll
meet on Main Street anyway, to watch
the teams come into town; stand
on the corner, listening for hooves
on pavement drumming to the heart. Just
the three of us reading horse poems
to each other and anyone who cares to listen.
And when the first big black Percheron
comes into view – a wagon-teamster’s Pegasus –
we’ll be flying 17-hands-high on the horses
of our never-grown-up dreams.
Copyright © Taylor Graham | Year Posted 2016
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