Your Horses

After Ted Hughes Out on the moors within the late June gentle,
I stood the place the infinite hills halved the sky
and noticed the place you first noticed your horses.
Have been they left over from a fever dream,
dropped momentarily from another planet?
However in that instantaneous, they existed: ten of them,
megaliths with draped manes and tilted
hind hooves; every totally silent, unmoving
within the icy morning air. As you handed by,
the large solar erupted, darkness shook open
and confirmed you its fires. However your horses
remained: affected person and grey, statue-like
within the iron gentle, enduring on the horizon.
Within the crowded streets of London, amid
the ocean of admiring faces, the scandals,
the accolades, did you ever once more discover
so peaceable a spot? Or are you continue to out
there, slipping by way of hills, hiding
within the bushes, mendacity within the heathers,
combing the barren moors, nonetheless looking?