A Sea of Grass

The lady of the sea of grass,
The rolling downs o’er which she’ll pass,
Her wedding veil across her face
Her fleeting dawn she does embrace,

The rhythmic breath, the sovereign turf
The lark looks down upon this earth
Watching a string of racehorses,
Thunder as they gallop past,

The lightening at the speed they move,
Her mantle’s cut by crescent hooves
A sea of tails, that wave behind
Silver, copper, gold we find,

For these are a breed so very old
Glide like the swallows we behold,
Upon some cloud of knowing speed
With perfect symmetry concede.

Skeins of mist around their feet
See the seasons changing beat,
They warm to sun they laugh at rain
They bend to snow and freezing wind,

Their muscles rippling under fire
Measure to measure, eye to eye,
Urged on by riders skilled and kind
They the winning stride will find.

These are the stoic, brave, the true
The last who know what once many knew.

Caroline Baldock © 2021