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What I Want
by Carole Bugge

A horse who knows the way home
            A woods to ride her in
The sudden, blinding flash of meaning
            a private revelation
                        in a flock of wild turkeys suddenly startled
                                    from their hiding place in the tall grass
The frantic flapping of their wings a benediction, a prayer
            a moment of divine grace

A rain-swept ride through city streets
            late at night in a yellow cab, tires hissing on pavement
                        tired but not sleepy yet, full of desire for the day
for morning coffee, thick and black and bitter as an old lover
            for croissants, dripping with butter and almonds
                        for an arm flung casually over the railing of a sidewalk café
                                    cigarette dangling from the long fingers
A thin brown body slumped restlessly in a chair,
            eyes prowling the streets for adventure

A garden in late afternoon, the summer winding down like a clock
            the blossoms dusty now, the grass beginning to brown
The air coyly full with the promise of fall
            and a carpet of fallen leaves on the trail
                        while there are leaves still on the trees
Yellow above, yellow below
Galloping through a glade of gold
            my horse's steady hooves the only sound
                        alone, yet not alone
Riding, riding through the woods
            on a horse who knows the way home

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