It's one of those special places
That we've tried to leave alone:
Sort of as things once were,
If you know what I mean.

Off the coast of Maryland
There was a ship wreck
Years ago. Aboard, the horses
Were freed in the foaming waves.

They swam, as horses do,
Awkwardly, always towards
The most accessible shore:
Heads up, ears aperk.

The people died in the storm
And the little horses were on their own.
They survive to this day
Roaming, grazing; wild as a dream.

They are free in a way that
Their brother and sister horses,
Corraled and besaddled, know not.
In fact, even these know not, just living.

We took the ferry over there,
A metal behemoth, forcing its way
Mechanically where their sailer
Foundered and abandoned them.

We were walking on the soft sand
And they were there, heads down
Eating the marshy hay, swishing
Away flies and looking up sometimes.

We went on to other places
A sunset together, sharing moments;
We saw many things, and we laughed a lot;
But I keep thinking about Pony Island.

04/23/2005

Posted on 11/29/2011
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