HORSE RANCH

Three sisters pulled the Sears catalog in front of them and went through it page by page, picking and choosing what they wanted. Each sister had a pad where she would add up her score.

I remember as a young man I would put $1,000,000 at the top of the page and start subtracting each item as I made my list. I didn't add much foolishness, although a cabin layout extending into the lake and an ultralight copter were prominent.

Really, one item tops many a young woman's list: the horse ranch. Young women may not detail the symbology of the horse, but us wise ol' guys know it includes physical prowess, energy, sexuality, and some wild spirit.

What most young women are likely to get, at the beginning, is a cowboy. That's where the ride begins. And in a just world, if there is genuine love between the young woman and the cowboy, truly all the rest is secondary.

HOOFPRINTS, FOOTPRINTS

That horse you ride in your dreams
the one unafraid of steep hillsides
the one that runs up
       one side of the house
       over the roof
and down into the fallow
       over the fence
and into the open land
       the Native Americans knew
that horse is your heart.

Reading the stars --
what foolishness --
but the heavens are a horse
God has often ridden.

You pick at my words
with the tiny forceps
       of your beliefs
and if you have never felt
the rumbling below
or heard the chorus above
I understand.

The Fruit of the Tree
       is the Word
       (it rebuffs images)
which we mistake
       for knowledge.
But the Word is a horse
God has often ridden
between the heavens
and my beleaguered people;
between the heavens
and my beleaguered heart.

In a distant land there is a cage of glass
       over sandy symbolic footprints
       where Abraham struggled
       to bridle just one Word
and each of my words
is a tiny hoofprint, footprint
of the horse of the stars or words
       in the tiny stomping grounds
       of my heart.

          Westwind 08/17/16 and 09/03/16