Elementary
By Stephanie Bergamo
(? S. Bergamo 30 March 2005)

Oh if I could
but walk with hooves
with four big toes
and a ballet of moves

Oh if I could but have
a dexterous muzzle
carefully to parse the healthy greens
from ones of trouble

Oh if I could but flare
my delicate nostrils wide
inhale the knowledge that on wind
ripples like the tide

Oh if I could but gaze
from fluid deep dark eyes
large and alert
in some faraway they reside

Oh if I could but swivel
my finely chiseled ears
and absorb subtle sounds
the environment rears

Oh if I could but swish
my lovely tail that touches ground
and carry it aloft
when I dance and swirl and bound

Oh if I could but shake
my lithe elastic neck
for my mane to sway and ripple
and a bur sometimes to catch

Oh if I could but spring
from my strong and supple haunch
and leap and buck and twirl
and delight in every launch

Oh if I could but roll as you
in grass and mud and sand
and know just what a fine, fine feeling
I have truly had

Then perhaps when you and I
amble trails both old and new
I would better understand
what our sojourns are to you

I would know how terrain can make
for you some kind of dent
in your timing and your footing
and your experience

I would know how feels the movement
of saddle upon your back
the girdle of the girth and on your bit
a hand giving slack

I would know how I sound
when I talk at random just to you
when you lend me your ear yet
your attention is elsewhere too

I would know, as you know,
that I really do not know
your vocabulary of silence
even when you nicker low

I would know how you see the shadows
from your wide-set eyes
and the light when it spooks you
as somehow I ride your shies

I would know when the sounds
that elude my perception
tell you what’s ahead
what requires more inspection

So much more I would know
if only I could be
with hooves and mane and tail
and your sensitivity

But for what reason
do I ponder these odd things?
because I seek to unravel
a persistent questioning

Why are you horse
and I human being?
Why am I not horse
and as a human you are seeking?

Then you could query on
about the whys, wherefores, of life
and I could live my wisdom
without such deep-seated strife

Oh dear little horse,
may my seat be ever deep
such that as we wander trails
you are not saddened should I weep

Why would I weep
whilst in the joy our travels bring?
Oh if I could but answer that
I would not muse upon these things

Instead I’d live the answer
borne beyond a reason
that joy and sorrow like your coat
are one throughout each season