Poems

Uncategorized

The Midnight Ride of Corneilus Klassen

Should be animals he thought,
gingerly stepping in pasture ordure.

“Nothing, nothing to see”
said the young maid,

raising her skirts in the barn.
Ah, he realized, he must be

dreaming, dark in the saddle,
raising himself on his toes –

nothing, all
he came for.

 

This entry was posted in Poems, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>