Sunday, 8 July 2012

at the end of the day

chilmark hay by thomas hart benton 1955



at the end of the day
i lead you into the river
where you suck and blow
water catches on a velvet muzzle
droplets shower me
as you shake
the dust from your mane
the heat rises
pungent with grain and mite
as i caress dappled hair
my hands colour black with oil
sweated out the days
we wander back your long lashes closing
sleep walking the well worn route
to stable and  oats
the bulk of you sways against me
trusting.



I have farming in my blood...my maternal grandfather worked heavy horses..he limped from following the plough , one foot in the furrow one foot out. As a teenager I was horse mad and spent hours helping out at our local stables, still at any given opportunity i will  go and see the horses in the field.



16 comments:

  1. Such a beautiful write. I thought surely this person really knows the land, and animals. Then I thought, no she is just a great writer. And then I read that you did, so she knows and writes beautifully!

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  2. dear annell, what a lovely comment you left for me!!...my dream is to have a house with a paddock so i can have a horse..just love them...xx

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  3. I, a horse lover, think you said this perfectly.

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  4. after being so wet with sweat running around the farm... my father would take us to the river and soak. and the farm animals will be on the lower end to cool down and drink... cool take!

    JJRod'z

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  5. That is beautiful prose and, so is the story about your grandfather.

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  6. Those are precious memories ~ Thanks for sharing them ~

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  7. smiles...of course i was not sure it was a horse at first but...i got the picture...smiles....what magnificent creatures, horses...

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  8. Wonderful write! close to my heart.
    thanks.

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  9. Nothing like hearing it from one with all the personal expertise to share! Many would envy you for them having gone through a bland childhood! Great write Kay!

    Hank

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  10. I was and am a horse lover, too. Enjoyed your poem!

    =)

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  11. Lovely, sympathetic description. For some reason the ‘pungent with grain and mite’ seemed to stand out in summing up those hazy summer days.

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  12. As you could tell from my poem, I also have farming in my blood. Our work horses were Belle and Dobbin. I loved them so .......... I enjoyed your lovely poem.

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  13. This was just precious! Great photo of the horse too!

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  14. You artfully captured the spirit of a horse in your poem, Kay. I could feel the closeness of the horse as I read the words. Thank you for sharing.

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