The Horses

I was standing among the stalks and weeds, The black beasts arose in the moonlight— A line of windswept bones under the sky, Yet they breathed so far beyond themselves, Brimmed with fury, caught in light, They came where the tall hills turned frail at dawn,
This urge of spiraled bodies a force, a ghost, Wild-eyed and striving To touch nothingness, to touch the night’s wild heart, And they called to one another.

Wise creators holding secrets, When dawn rose in simple shadows, Netting life in these fleshly forms, They thrummed a bass so rare, accompanied by music. The feet carved dancing in fog— A harmonious breath rising. What roots beckon, as night bows out, And the world awakens in silent gasps?

• Ted Hughes