Poetry in the Park
(An
ode to Tinicum Park Polo)
It's what
they call the thunder.
Horses galloping
with braided tail
The open
field torn asunder
As
stick and ball take air and set sail.
Saturday
along the Delaware,
The flag
waves high,
Goal! And the spectators stare,
The
chukker ends and scores a tie.
Ladies in
hats and parasols, images from an era bygone,
Gents bedecked
in elegant attire
Strawberries,
champagne, candlelight, and lace - nothing forgone.
Heat
of the sun, breeze from the chase - Energy, Passion, Fire!
It
is sheer poetry in motion.
Children
stomping divots join in the dance.
Fans
applaud and shout, "well-done!"
The
horses thunder, thus ends the Game of Kings - a seductively sweet romance.
LeeAnn Piermont
Camut
(all rights
reserved)