Palmer Passing Through Poem by Kevin Eaglesfield

The horse walked slowly, steaming
Into the yard below, its hooves ringing
Loudly on the salted stones.
The black of its coat contrasted the snow
And seemed to absorb the light,
Its outline faintly glowing.
A furtive figure flitted from the shadows,
Uncovered a lantern and moved towards the rider.
I held my breath so as not to fog the glass,
And saw that the figure was James Wright,
Shielding one side with his coat.
The rider had a cruel, pock-marked face
As he bent, and the two muttered,
A short burst of laughter
Cracking through the still air.
James shook his head and
Let go his coat to gesture.
The other, a head shorter and clad shabby,
Dismounted and stepped forward as the lamp
Was held high in defence.
Spitting a few words, he raised his hand to strike,
Then instead patted James' cheek
And handed him a small pouch.
They stared for long seconds,
Then James took the bridle and beckoned
With a curt twitch of his head
As the stranger grinned.
They moved from my view then,
And I heard the stable door groan
As though woken too early.
The rider and horse
Were gone by morning.