four horses ~david whyte

On Thursday the farmer
put four horses
into the cut hay-field
next to the house.

Since then the days
have been filled with the
sheen of their
brown hides
racing the fence edge.

Since then I see
their curved necks
through the kitchen window;
sailing like swans
past the pale field.

Each morning
their hooves fill my
open door
with an urgency
for something
just beyond my grasp

and I spend my whole
day in an idiot joy,
writing, gardening,
and looking
for it
under every stone.

I find myself
wanting to do
something
stupid and lovely.

I find myself
wanting to walk up
and thank
the farmer for those
dark brown horses and
see him stand
back laughing in his

grizzled and
denim wonder at my
innocence.

I find myself wanting
to run down first street
like an eight year old,
saying, “Hey!
Come and look
at the new horses
in Fossek’s field!”

And I find myself
wanting to ride
into the last hours
of this summer,
bareback and
happy as the hives
of the days
that drum toward me.

I hear the whinny of
their fenced and abandoned
freedom
and feel happy
today
in the field
of my own making,

writing non-stop,
my head held high
ranging the boundaries
of the birthright
exuberance.

~David Whyte

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2 thoughts on “four horses ~david whyte

  1. For awhile we had horses in the small field from across our house in New Mexico. I felt like this poem everyday and have been sad they are no longer where I can go out in the morning and touch their noses. Ethel

    • How wonderful! I haven’t spent much time around horses, but lately I’ve been thinking that I’d like to. It will take some effort, since I live in the city, but I know there are stables in the area.

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