When the horses talk to me,
by Debra Coppinger Hill
They tell me many things,
The whats and hows of yesterday,
Why the Nighthawk sings.
I learn the meaning of the dance,
Between animals and men,
They inspire me to take the chance,
To look back on where I’ve been.
On this plain where we live,
In the circle at the center,
We receive more than we give,
When privileged to enter.
So I close my eyes in Trust and walk,
And listen, to the horses talk.