Paved Road

Not paved.
Not paved.

Horse-trodden slopes that

Elevate frozen sounds

Of lucid dreams to create

A precipice I look down

Upon my silken throne.

Tattered lights peek around

The shaggy grills of buses

To illuminate brittle stones

That resemble cloud-soaked

Skies until it dawns upon

A closer view of decline.

Sharp breezes that dance

A solemn waltz which kicks

Strands of snowy garlands,

Serpentine with lack of form,

To contrast the night.

Away we go across

Troubled waters that moan

Under crunching tires

That spin a vexed row

Like a carousel pony’s trot.

The vehicle changes yet

Travelers continue their procession,

Of torque and tradition,

Pushing herds or scalable

Shifts unseen atop steel horses.

Composed 12/11/12

Author’s Note: This was written as part of a challenge by my friend: Compose a poem that starts and ends with the word “horse.” I wrote about travel in the winter, because that is quite harrowing in this country. Luckily, I have a paved road from my site to the capital city, so it’s not quite as bad as it could be.

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