Well, this a poem that I want to read,
because I like the cleverness.
I usually don't like cleverness.
Cleverness is an enemy of poetry so often.
But I thought this was just too darn clever to not do it.
I'm indulging myself.
And I should say that the last word in the poem is spelled
N-E-I-G-H. It's called "Horse Prayer."
"Why was I born to balance the two laid on my back,
to carry across my snout his stocking of oat and apple?
Why, I pray to you, father of what
runs in the name of the fenceless field, when
he declares himself my master, does he not
understand my neigh?"
Isn't that funny?
I just thought, I can't give that up.
I'm sorry.
And he prays to the lord of the fenceless field.
Because if we supposedly see our Lord in our own image,
so does he.