Great Plains Crossing

Horses are like angels,
come from the other shore, through clouds
storming gale grunts of thunder nostrils
that power, the earth’s first monsters
come to this land imperious and here for me
in speckled, inbred history telling the wind
its hair, with the ground sacred communing
an ancient oneness to the watching mountains,
yet across the deep forest of night
come for me, to lift me upward, carry me
away to the new world. Stories of you
my grandfather told, of the people’s and your
friendship, ceremony, mutual respect
reassured with each tradition honoring,
to sing the sacred song before all adventures,
acknowledge my relationship to the horse
before riding, that he is my cousin
and with a spirit bigger than mine,
to ride naked on the backs of storm clouds
flashing direct, toward the sun.
If the desert is far, you will fulfill your word,
but if the night is long, stay awake with me;
recite a verse to the stars, who listen, also
journey to the country beyond the sky.