APPALOOSA

Spotted, bare back across the yellow earth,

cockled across the open plains loved best,

their hooves lighted in fine grain dusted prints

of grassland earth. They wait knowingly for

free loving buffalo families to move.

Not skittish chaos, a mad black fed beast

whose sharp mane slices, forges, thrashes air,

wide-eyed attacking blackness; racing on,

like raw red over-fed furnace breathing

hard huffs of angry air, too hot and wet.

Appaloosa’s horsy chuckles happy,

and fill the clear sunny sky horizon;

yet in sad windy winters, they hold up,

their cockled groups huddled in deep starved drifts,

then your hat hangs off their pointy hip joints.

Published by UK radio.