Apache, the tanned horse we'd found,
had been lost from the grazing garden above the town.
We led him to our home, borrowed brushes...
Neighbourly folk came with herbs in cooking pots,
their kindly tin-wrapped remedies for wounds.
From our purple veranda
we watched him graze in the moonlight
and in the quiet of the noisy night
he must have slipped our gaze,
flicked the bolted gate
and then, again escaped!
From the telegraph poles, the owls hooted
and took flight, so we turned right
to find him on the silvery ribbon road
waiting by the forest of Eucalyptus.
You took his face, spoke his name, scolding
and stroking his nose. "He's well - he wants
company: Patch? Were you waiting for us?"
and taking his mane, you cartwheeled onto his back,
like you should, a sound now, getting faster and lighter
into the darkening tangles and slow soft places
of the fine pine wood.
06
07
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