8.19.2023 - Silent H
/8.19.2023
Silent H
Do you hear the hoofbeats?
|Stamping and gnashing over the rim and out of sight.
I try to picture the horses,
Broad noses without sidewalk stripes,
Flowing mane and satin tail,
|But beyond the bushes, my eye corners see bristled mohawks.
I hear the hooves and know,
Without ever knowing how,
That before they crest the hill,|
Those are not horses.
They are always zebra.
