Hawk's air-springed muscles helped him glide,
So swiftly down the mountain side.
With sinew bulging spotted rump,
he vaulted o'r a rocky hump.
Descendant of Chief Joseph's herd,
Hawk's canter was like a flying bird.
Swollen streams couldn't break his stride.
His head held high with Nes Pierce pride.
I rode that steed with fleeting speed,
his strong legs breaking through high weed.
Hailstones splattered, horseshoes clattered
and a flock of wild grouse chattered.
On shale slid Hawk, tripped and stumbled,
down the slope we flipped and tumbled.
The snow flakes started swirling down,
as I lay hurt, on rocky ground.
I was dazed, my body aching.
Dizzy, sore and both legs shaking.
We both felt pain from head to toes,
Yet hurt, Hawk raised me with his nose.
I wrapped my wounds and mounting, moaned,
said " Come Hawk, now take us home".
Poetry by © Don Bendell
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