Guardian

Gazing across the sand and sea
She stands as still as she can be.
Listening for a sound unheard
To any other soul but she.

For centuries her kind have stood
And watched the evil and the good.
Now time has aged her satin coat,
But not the fire in her blood.

She listens now with ears unfurled
To things that are not of this world.
Her forelock, dancing in the wind,
Upon her sacred forehead curls.

The moon shines on her crest so fair,
It lights her eyes and paints her hair.
She breathes the wind and tastes the sea;
With velvet hooves she dances there.

This is the night - she knows 'tis true -
She knows now that her time is due
To bring into this world an heir -
A prince, soft as the morning dew.

And when the sun heralds the morn
She sweetly sings to her newborn
And gazes soft upon the brow
Soon Myth and Legend will adorn.

Back to Poetry Index

Contents of this website © Sheila D. Hardie 1998-2004. All Rights Reserved.

Increase your horse site's traffic up to 65% - FREE!