Imagine the way those horses came
plunging and foaming like a race
undammed, and how the hot hooves crashing
scoured down the hills of Thrace.

Fed by an unheard“of hunger”
roaring white“eyed from their source,
they ate the mountain like a river
ravening out a watercourse.

He made them stand, slow“eyed and tame,
and, two by two, across the plains,
he led in glory back to Greece
those horses never meant for reins.

Deborah Warren

Articles by Deborah Warren