April is National Poetry Month. In honour of that, I’m digging through my archives and posting a series of poems I’ve written over the years.
Sundappled Sunday on left and right coasts,
Griffith Park to
The Staten Island Ferry;
I rode a painted pony in the sand.
Saddle slapping tender in-thighs,
I endured your stings.
Silent father shouting
At distant mother
Riding roughshod on a tender mare.
Slow stumble upon whip-worn trails,
Round and round
We go again.
Sundappled Sunday ponies,
Perfectly painted; ready to ride.