you come charging across history’s pages.
Your strong hearts and heaving sides
were harnessed to carts, wagons, chariots and caissons.
You came pulling cargos of plunder and slaves,
shot and powder,
pioneers and hope.
You walked ahead of graceful carriages,
plodded in wagon trains,
raced before the spear,
plowed fertile valleys,
nuzzled meadow grass with children resting on your broad backs.
You, with ears set to the master’s call
and the season’s message,
reaped harvests of labor and love,
traversed wide avenues of great civilizations,
hauled over continental divides and plains.
Your work was all done with integrity of task.
You stepped forever forward
dripping sweat with no thought to history's chapters.
I miss your staying presence,
your ponderous strength, and soft gentle muzzle.
From Murmurings: A Collection, Don Davison