Badgers

This is a very personal poem of mine describing a vision of a scene in the future. It hasn't happened yet, but it will :)
I can never be sure about anything except this one vision I've had all my life. I've found the person who fits into the vision and in a few years (after I've got out of this boring town) we can make it a reality.

Arising cross the dew soaked, spidered grasses

Sunlight quartered, sliced through oak;

Coarse muddied mane grasped in still-tiny fingers,

Soft hands on horseback, on thigh and on heart.

Running behind in April harmony,

Claws and paws and your leather crack boots

And crooked smile and opal eyes and sturdy steps;

Scattering the rainbow through the mist

Until, on the other side

It is calm and pure; white again.

Ten feet tease the ground, two avoid.

Break for sandwiches; four more join.

I am not a painter else I would paint, not a sketcher else I would sketch. But I can bend a word around the page and around the paintings and sketches I have in my head. And this is my go at it.