The Percherons

Chard DeNiord

My sister and I went out to them with sugar
cubes and bridled their heads when they bent down
to eat from our palms. We led them over
to the long white fence on which we climbed
to the topmost rail, then threw our legs
across their backs, clutching the reins to steady
ourselves against their girth, steering them out
into the hills until we were lost, or thought
we were, only to find ourselves at Judith
Creek or Holcomb Rock where we’d turn back
in the early dark, gripping their manes, crouching
low, galloping hard on the high soft
road across the fields to the open barn.


Source. About the poet. Illustration: Project H.O.P.E.: Equine Assisted Therapies


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