PRIMIERA

I ride upon your back today, while others run.
Strain creases their faces, as side by side
They cover miles of tar. No harmony there,
Such as ours, for you bear me with pride
On forest carpet and mountain trail.
Our senses are a language much more
Than words can tell. You, my ears, and I
Your guiding hand. Ah, my beautiful,
I came to you today, my heart so human frail.
Your soft black muzzle sought my hand, crest
Arched to my touch. I laid my head against your
Soft white neck. Your spirit soothed my troubled breast.
If possessing a soul makes me guilty too,
Oh that He’d made me a creature, like you.

© Lynne Harris