For Rilke

Asleep in snow the horse

of gold awoke and moved

in the white snow

ripen ripen ripen my air

pushed with his air with the white

smoke from his noisy body

fluid hooves riding in the sight

of fences, kicking snowballs up

in the barnfields of glazed white

chimney smoke from a black barn

ripen ripen ripen into me

the horse of pure strength

came riding, riding

from white grass