My life is a herd of horses-



Each one going through his paces

                        Making mistakes that all trained horses make-

                        But, mistakes that bring regret

                                    And breed an eagerness to compete again without mistake.


My pasture is well marked-



Each path deliberately chosen and drawn

                        And barbed wire smarts the erring hoof

                        That leaves the path to stray.


Each horse knows his part and moves through his paces,

                        Liking it-

                                    Because it is comfortable,

                                    Because it is secure,

                        And, because he knows a lump of sugar is his reward.


But there's a frisky colt that's also in my herd.

                        He likes to nibble grass where signs are posted;

                        He likes to rear and kick his heels and sling his head;

                        He likes to take a bite of apple in proffering hand so fair-

                                    Not to spoil,

                                    Not to devour,

                        But to let the wine-y tartness fill his cheeks.

                        He likes to race the wind and let his mane whip in the breeze

                                    Like a lady's favor on a jouster's lance.


Let me please God and man with the herd of horses that is me-

                        But let me play the colt as well,

                        He does no harm and keeps my life so fresh.