Three horses, tethered to a heavy
load, eyes weary
and downcast, plod
through washed out hills
of gray. Across their path a bronze
horse dashes – free.
No saddle. No
bridle. Tell me:
is there a way, as the poet says,
to move easy
in harness and
also be free?
JDG
I’d say the poet’s way here is learning and then experimenting with form. The form is the tether, but the poetic license to experiment with it is the freedom. 🙂
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