Three Horses
Three painted horses on springs,
red, yellow, and green,
cantor toward swings on the playground.
The merry-go-round once kept pace—
its rough metal sixths, matched and bright,
are now faded and weathered.
It’s a long summer day. I’m alone in the park.
No children. Just echoes of voices
in the sound of the stream that still flows
not far off in the woods.
So I sit on the red horse, the one on the left,
my favorite when I was five.
My feet touch the ground. I don’t bother to bounce.
I just think about forty-odd years
and these horses, this place,
and the places between here and here.
© Marc A. Drexler
Marc A. Drexler writes poetry to express in words what words cannot express. He was an original Community TA for the Coursera class ModPo (Modern & Contemporary American Poetry). He is a strong believer in collectivism. He worked for many years at the Maryland Food Collective, and is currently a member of the Earth Collective, a group of about eight billion people who make all the decisions about how we interact with our planet.
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