I got stuck on the moor,
thirty wild horses by the bridge
I couldn't pass.
I was looking out to sea when suddenly,
a long sweeping line before me,
our gazes matched.
I stopped. They stopped.
A mare approached me, then a foal.
She sniffed me so close
her velvet nose
brushed my hand.
READ SOME MORE
And then we passed,
a slow procession against
the stillness of the mountain.
- Today's poem is from Grace Wilentz's debut collection, The Limit of Light (Gallery Press). She previously published a chapbook, Holding Distance (Green Bottle Press, 2019).
