Prairie Poetry   
  Forge Song
   
 

If I could learn to smith
From the sky down to the place
Where unshod horses beckon
With whinny, nod, and toss of mane,
Then I might know the trade
Of anvil, fire, and nails.
To be needed for a common task
Is all that man may ask of life:
Shoe a horse, raise a child, love a wife.

 
   
  Howard G. Brown
   
  Copyright © 2003 Howard G. Brown
   
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