The Dreams of My Father

(With a nod to outgoing U.S. president, Barack Obama)

 

In the misty rain,

I see the apple tree –

the tree which my father said would not grow,

but which grew;

the tree which my father said would not bear fruit,

but which bore fruit.

 

I am this tree.

 

I feel the air,

cool and moist;

I hear birds

chirping in my boughs;

I look up, down, and all around –

I see the dreams of my father.

 

(Copyright Glenn D. Horne, 2015)

A Gallant Knight

POEM

A gallant knight astride his mount

Came riding in the morning;

A gallant knight astride his mount –

Arriving in the morning.
The township gathered round about

To see why he was roaring

In pain. Alighting from his mount,

He fell beneath an awning.
A gallant knight astride his mount

Came riding in the morning;

A gallant knight astride his mount –

Arriving in the morning.
The doctor noted he was sick,

So sick he wasn’t talking:

“I’ve failed to learn what’s wrong with him,

So sick that he’s not talking.”
The said knight grabbed the doctor’s vest

And – grasping – whispered sorely:

“The plague…”

                              The townsfolk drew a breath,

Their final breath, that morning.
(Copyright Glenn D. Horne, 2016. Previously published as Riding into Abbeville in FreeXpresSion, September, 2015.)