Saturday, September 25, 2010


Cool air seems to quicken the horses' feet.
They feel a change coming.
Hearts beat like drums.
Warpaint on the trees.

Old scars ache
Of long-ago adventures
And foolish mistakes

Some scars you can see
And others you can't
Some were given to me
Others I had to fight for

A breeze, a glass of wine,
the scent of my horse
Fresh in my nostrils
And I can't help wondering
What good I've done
Or if I'll be able to do any
Before winter.


1 comment:

Lori Skoog said...

SJ...another beautiful photo. Is that your boy? Beautiful.