Short Farmstead Poems

The Horse's Mouth


Meadows green, lavish, plush,
White picket fence, prospectively pleasing.
Farmstead particular,
A picture postcard realm.

Stallion struts proudly,
Mare mutters while grazing.
Rare breeds, 
Bloodline polished, yet forged.

Colt striving independence,
Reins tight, suffocating.
Whips command order, 
Gallop inevitable.

Pungent manure engulfs the stable,
Stampede bellows "nay".
Horses led to water,
Could not make them drink....

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The gravel driveway lies outside the barnyard,
a young rider on its back asks if this is the first ride,
and about the reins it bears. Just ahead lies a field
lined by trees, and beyond, a highway where it
must stop. The young rider counts on it to know
the way, but the older cousins on horses lead.
First a canter, then a trot, the pony must walk
before it runs, steps of imagination taken
on a farmstead claimed by another generation,
flights of fancy taken, as the sun sets to the west....

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