Friday, June 18, 2010

Ode to Molly

Way out there past the western wind,
beyond the stars at night,
there's tales of hoof prints on the clouds
upon that sea of white.
And I've seen shadows cross the sun
in dappled greys and blacks
like horses in the western sky
with angels on their backs.
They say "up there" it's always green
the streams are wide and clear.
The cold north wind can never blow,
in fact, it's spring all year.
If horses souls just roam off
and they never really die,
then I know one who waits for me
beyond that western sky.
So God must be a cowboy,
even if it's just at heart,
why else would He make snowy peaks
that point up to the stars,
a cowhorse for a best friend
like the one I'm missing now
and fill the sky with angels
who leave hoof prints on the clouds?

-Aspen Black

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