On New Year Morning
Halfway up the rise looking back
across the Hamlet rooftops,
through scented woody swirls,
I see six horses like statues bent to earth,
necks and fetlocks steam with strength.
In the space between us only silence,
though there lie a hundred souls to sleep, to dream,
yet not one to see this sight.
This New Years Morn when life is all and everything.
I will not pray to thank imagined Gods
nor they commune with me,
but a heart does fill with love and hope
when eyes such beauty see.