Letter Home

Letter Home

The breath of a horse lights the night.
We are on the battleground again,
Camping this time. The bodies are gone,
Their blood shadows there – here,
Darker against the dark ground; our bedrolls
Set in spaces between.
The breath of a horse lights the night.
If there was a moon, I’d unsheathe this sword
And watch it glimmer with the sky.
Instead this night is to be long, a cavern of dark.
The dark of a sentry darker than the distant trees,
His breath too thin to cloud to light.
The breath of a horse lights the night.
I’ll hold my own till dawn, listening hard
To the tick of my heart. We are all awake,
Each with an aura of thought to fill the time,
Thinking is dull, but the air is tense.
The breath of a horse lights the night.
I scratch this letter home with the whispers
Of a pen for company, its ink
A darkness on the nightblind page.
The breath of a horse lights the night.
There’s a sound, but it’s nothing, yet
The heart races, races, wondering
When Fate will whim battle again,
The breath of a horse lights the night.

Poem by Tim Singleton
Artwork by Denise Tarbell

Poets & Painters Gallery Show 2011

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