Poetry collection

The Ride

The Ride

Come ride the long storm wind with me,

Sweep down from the skies

Amid the grey and howling cloud.

Long hair, loose flailing our backs,

Swollen lank with the heavy drops

That torrent around us as we plunge.

Our stallions' giant muscled necks,

Bent proudly beneath our hands,

Manes whipped back and tangled with our own.

Descend, oh, descend with me in joyous headlong tilt.

Down from the skies,

Down from the clouds,

Down from the mountaintops, where long have we swirled.

Brothers come ride the long storm wind with me.

Sweep out o'er the surging brine,

That grasping thrusts white fingers upward

To entwine the tumultuous thunder hooves

Of our tireless winged steeds.

Now is the time! Hooligans,

Mount up and let's be gone!

Cast on your god cloaks and mail,

With wild laugh leave we our cares in shreds,

Cresting the wind's turbulent edge.

In glory shall we ride, we four,

'Twill be but once, and then no more.