Hooves of Glory

My thoughts today coursed with Apollo's disk
though I strode only on an asphalt path
since its altitude offered lower risk
from airless space and Newtonian math.

It's best if poets remain well grounded
and surely the gods with that will agree
for mortal pride they say is unfounded
and gods must be worshipped from a bent knee.

Yet I was given feet on which to trod
and old knees do not bend so readily
nor will they charge like a solar god
borne by atomic hooves beating steadily.

     Still, might not a poet with some pride dare
     when illuminated by so bold a glare?