Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Fourth September Selection 2012

Poseidon's Horses

At the end of summer
always the wind
watched by the horses
stoutly forward facing it
heads bowed against
the surf of green pastures
as clouds glide overhead.
And always the wind.
Storms blunder in
from the North Atlantic
day turns gunmetal gray
approaching walls of rain
on the road to Vík
all color is smothered
from the world.
Then come
the running cloud-breaks of sun
that stampede over the fields
where the horses are still waiting
and windows of light
race up basalt cliffs
illuminating the glacier fingers
that clutch this island.
torrents of a river unravel
on a flood plane
lava sand
the thread of the road
leads to a causeway bridge.
Droves of horses gallop
out of the brightness on the bridge
mounted horsemen follow
the fences of the road
the currents of the herd
they spread around my car
blowing panting
not quite touching it.
Beyond the river
storm fronts trample the landscape
hoof beats of air
as waterfalls
launch themselves from cliffs
blown sideways in the rain.
And always there is the wind.
Poseidon's horses run free
on lava sand beaches
breaching the luster
of the broken surf
foam dissolving
and the sea becomes night
dark as basalt.

--Wulf Losee


Anonymous said...

"on the CORNICHE" not "cornice"

Anonymous said...

Sorry, Wulf, commented at the wrong spot...