In the Telling it Becomes Clear

Franz Marc, “Dreaming Horse” (1913)

In the telling, it becomes clear

the universe sneezes, and

the door smashes–
with the thunder of hooves, a jump—
into far-flung tomorrow—

jump again—
there are no pauses,
and though the colors never cease

galloping through space,
still, we’re always surprised

to find them
where they’ve always been
in the dream pastures within.

I wasn’t sure where I was going with this poem from Kerfe’s Oracle 2 words, but it ended up wanting to be part of Jane’s herd.

31 thoughts on “In the Telling it Becomes Clear

      • I’m surprised I’ve remembered to do them every Sunday so far. But Sundays I usually see the girls so it helps me remember what day it is.

      • We had coffee in the park and saw, besides the usual pigeons, starlings, sparrows and robins, both a downy woodpecker and a redheaded woodpecker, which was pecking on the path with the pigeons! The downy was going up and down the tree next to us. That was a treat.

      • That sounds lovely! I hear woodpeckers a lot, but I’m seldom able to see them in the trees. That is so cool that you saw one on the ground with the pigeons. Sometimes I’d see one at our window feeder, but we taken it down because I think it attracted mice.

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