Thoroughbreds on US 62

16 Oct

If you come by the road that cuts through the horse farms

Stonewall, Chanteclaire, Vinegar Hill—

A running stitch of rock fences hemming raw edges

Spires and steeples on one side, brown stubble and stalk, the other—

On both sides:  bluegrass bluebloods, enduring as trees.

If you come as the crow flies over a quilt, shades of motherland green

Darby, Shadow Lane, Waterford Stud—

(those stitches, standing witness to Famine survival)

Acknowledge their stillness, patient as statues

Long-suffering sentinels, dark in the rain.

–Rebecca Luttrell Briley

16 October 2014

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