Bare Branches

He almost threw me,
Wandering into the thick
Bare branches
strewn across the trail
An old, dead tree, barring passage
Familiarity, with a stranger
Unaware of dangers in passing
. . . Through the wild!

Old Pager,
backing up on hinds
bucked a mighty storm
to relieve me from his back
As I held on to something,
that should have passed me by

Fear oozing from his soul
kicking dust into the heaven
With one last mighty heave
. . . Steadfast
Sweet consolations . . . whispers
and I the victor, master
My beast, forever mine

Yet, I not his . . . wondering
when he will grow weary, tiring
My weight, heavy upon his silken flanks
. . . That I may move on

© 2005 Janet K. Brennan

Janet welcomes your comments!