Mornings

The mainstay of mornings
Light force desiring
A foal on its own
Frost seemingly
A curdling whisper
Alone all desiring
On cylinders firing
It’s big eyes we see

Peering through thickets
A roadway it’s fearing
Endearingly staring
And hearing the sound
Of a truck that is laden
With logs and a maiden
Sprung from the evergreen
Tossed to the ground

The utterance clearly
Of some thing out yonder
A beast in its own right
Both soulful and there
See the breath rise in one emanation
Confused in a sense
To be wanting to share.