The Mists of the Morning

It was chill in Donacomper in the early morning gloom
The scene a stage of mystic mist, the sun a covert moon
I walked out to the barley field diffused in dappled light
To see their slumbering silhouettes after the peace of night
So many I thought this morning as I scanned their hushed domain
And lest I disturb their restfulness I turned away again
But to my surprise behind me had gathered the dominant few
Already awake and standing and graced with a glimmer of dew
And as I watched with wonder they started to slowly move
And form a circle around me gliding on silent hooves
They cantered in gentle motion all part of the rhythmic round
In the pink hued mist of the morning, a ballet without any sound

I stood transfixed for a moment before I recognised
The fine proud form of Noddy leading his equine tribe
And then I saw who followed - it was Big Bird, wide and kind
With Sandman, Jim and Donard, then Lancer, close behind
I turned and watched the procession as Frolic and Snowflake went by
Then Julia, Tom and the others, their cadence beguiling the eye
But now the sun's rays are warmer and the mist is drifting away
And the world is preparing for creatures who only live by the day
But I know when I want to go dreaming and to meet with my friends from the past
I can travel the mists of the morning and drink of the dew on the grass

In memory of Sheelagh Cassidy & Donacomper Riding School, Celbridge, Co. Kildare, Ireland.

© Declan Whitney 2021