By Patrick Johnston
A Horse Nation
A conflagration
See them prancing
They come
Mane flames flutter as they gallop,
tails streaming blaze.
Horse sweat, horse smell,
horse foam on their flanks.
Flaring nostril teeth,
eyes whites.
They reach for cloudless skies.
Flaming horses
in their herds,
as they leap
unerring
from Nature’s cruel cliffs,
clop clop clop
skyward,
clad in yellow flames.
Burning as they go,
jet trails writ on empty skies.
