Ride Free

Beneath the stars and under moon,
Where the thoughts at twilight dim,
Is a place I must come soon
To go riding down the wind.
There, at midnight's nearest noon,
A horse waits beside the lynn,
Coat of blended white and gray
Shining like the ending day.

There, with dove-gray mane and tail;
There he waits, his neck a-quiver
With the longing to run and sail,
As the stars in the sky shiver.
My mind protests to no avail;
We are running, as if to deliver
A message on which turns fate,
On which kings and worlds wait.

The horse's motions under me
Are smooth as the flowing water
Of a stream or of a sea.
His hoofs do constant slaughter
To each league as we ride free.
For a moment, I am wind's daughter,
Succumbing to the lure,
My hair tangled with wind-whisper.

Then I come back to myself
As into a wood we speed
Where never walked a sprite or elf,
Where there never walked, indeed,
Any spirit from legend's shelf.
I see the trees begin to bleed,
And shiver, and hold myself still.
We pass like a wind upon a rill.

We come out upon a slope,
And the horse snorts and slows,
Dropping from a canter to a lope,
His hooves slipping in the snows.
I tense, and my mind finds hope.
This trail, this route, he knows.
Perhaps we can find an ember
Of a path I might remember.

But then, the same as before-
With no time and no transition-
We pass through some hidden door,
And ride into the midst of vision,
As past stars and moon we soar.
I stifle a scream and make a decision:
The next time I hear time's cough,
Path or no, I'm leaping off.

But when his hooves touch ground,
They splash down into the ocean.
He swims with white water all around.
I sit swaying slightly with the motion
As he kicks his way across a sound,
My heart swelling with fearful emotion.
Very well, then: I will find my way home
The moment that we leave the foam.

And then we leave it, on a track
Where the moonlight falls through trees
That otherwise are truly black.
I listen in silence to the breeze,
For I cannot find my way back.
This seems my mount to please.
At least, he snorts and then stops
In a clearing filled with dewdrops.

I sink off his back and down,
Rolling on my back to stare
Up at his head with wind crowned,
Not believing I dared to dare
Such a ride- for almost drowned
And lost upon land and air
Was I in that wild ride.
The horse moves up to my side,

Lowering his head, and I sigh,
Stroke his mane, and slowly drift
Back through my mind's dull sky,
Back through the mist of my gift,
Until I forget what it is to fly,
And my wings forget to lift.
For I must ride wild, ride free,
In order to write poetry.