Homecoming
Over the frozen landscape I ride...needles of ice hang from trees...green
grass covered with hoarfrost...white...
Cold...bitter cold...wind blows through my garments...garments
made for warmer climes...
My horse slips on ice unseen...quickly recovers her
footing...Smoke seen in the distance...a fire...warmth...I urge my
mare forward...forgetting cold...forgetting wind...forgetting
everything but the remembered warmth of your embrace...the touch
of your lips...the sparkles dancing in your eyes...
Smoke coming ever closer...or is it my mare's determination to
reach the warmth of her stall...the oathay tucked in the corner
crib...I ride through the forest...smell the smoke...almost at a
canter...break into a clearing...see you standing there in a smile
draped from ear to ear...a steaming bowl of hot liquid held in
your hands...I reach your side slipping out of the saddle while my
mare snorts her way to her remembered stall...I take a sip from your
offering...put down the bowl...my eyes never leaving your
beauty...gather you up in a long loving embrace as you
welcome me home......
© Skya Wode
11 December 1997
