ISABEL NEE

O, but how bright and beautiful is she, 
Her mane billows at a toss of her head, 
Never a prouder horse did you yet see, 
As stars shimmer in her coat; black as lead. 
This fine fiery mare of starry night, 
This creature made of darkness and moonbeams, 
Her coat a mirror, reflecting all light, 
Was borne of a mere mortal’s sweet daydreams. 
Ebony! I reach out, call out her name, 
She snorts and whirls away, leaving me here. 
Then suddenly she spins, and as if tame, 
Comes to me, her eyes soft and dark and clear. 
I touch silky mane; through it fingers wind, 
And then, we leap, flying fleet as the wind.