The trick rider arches
off the horse's back
into an arc
that lights his feet
dustless across the dirt.
A floating prince
think the young men
around the barrel fire,
miracle with no need
of the tricks of shadows,
for each had ridden
the same small horse,
tried to spin
the same twists,
make manifest to the small crowd
who was the prince of all.
This sparkles.
Good poem, John. Each spinning line is one of the twists.
princely *
Thanks Mathew, Bill and Beate. I did want this to spin like the rider.
Love this. When I read it I think of the small horse being the prince. A few years ago didn't you write an extraordinarily moving piece about a mule being led away? I remember that story clear as day. Associations are funny that way.
Dianne, thank you. Yes, I did write the poem about a mule. I'm proud to know you remember it.
Best