Thursday, September 22, 2011
Summer's Last Hurrah
Uncertain the Final Run to Winter
-William Kloefkorn
Summer,
a fat horse
tender against the spurs
Now as the last edge of autumn
hangs precipiced in yellow on the trees
the animal sees the sudden space and shies.
I sense the ropy girth go loose:
uncertain the final run to winter.
Between the halt and the beginning
lies the gap,
familiar to the eye
as palm to pommel.
My lean horse balks: ahead,
the wide white skylessness of space.
Not knowing where mount and rider end,
or where they come together,
I see myself as statue weathered,
sitting its saddle like an Ichabod.
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