Poem 42: Stansted Ken

poetry is for people
who read in the night
horses are for people
who look through windows
for a wandering plain
freedom
in many shades of tan
and with the desert
you can have your wordless
friend, but give him
silver studs on a saddle
of black leather
and a blanket
of Navaho blue.

yes I know that
Indians rode bare back
back then
but then they never
had to jump fences.