Dawn Riders (Poetry)

It is a mellow light that comes
slanting in across the plain —
lilac-grey mountains ripple in the distance
and a slow-rising cloud of dust
follows four riders spurring on their mounts —
hoofbeats drumming nearer.

My window opens out into the late summer air —
seed of thistles blowing, drifting in long undulating waves
as the breeze gusts its softness through.
Some gathers on the sill — clumps like tumbleweed
and still the hoofbeats thrum —
the seconds ticking...

I throw my covers off, draw back
the stirring gauzy drapes from posts
to see their progress — how the race is run
and what news they bring of love and war —
the virgin bed I sleep on is an island of desire
safe from the fury of imagined guns.

And now they’re close — these four messengers
who speed across the stretch of yellow-green
that measures my horizon —
they’ve eaten up the so-flat miles between
and now anticipation grips me — churns my heart
with fear and hope of word from him.

Dark uniforms dismount as one — their horses sway from
tiredness
the lump in my throat presses hard as stone
as a figure turns towards me and I see
his face — the moment melts reality and dreams
and I awake crying for a ghost —
unsure of who I am...

... remembering another life — a passion that still haunts —
the ache of pleasure — knowing he came back for me.