And faded denim overalls with a ripped pocket right in front.
I shall spend my husband’s life insurance money
On fresh cut hay, grooming brushes, oats and fencing supplies.
I will haul my fragile bones out to the yard
And meditate to the harmony of my beauties munching hay,
And I shall inhale their scent deep into my cells
Because they are my best medicine.
I shall experience my most intimate conversations
With my special mares
And not give a darn if others think
That I am “that whacky horse lady.”
I shall climb upon my aging friend’s comfortable back at sunrise
And go on an adventure, even if only into the nearby field
So she can graze.
I shall dream of our days gone by…
Of galloping through the bean fields, jumping fallen trees,
And exploring in the woods.
And I shall ask my Creator that when my time on Earth is done,
That I be greeted on the other side
With the familiar whinnies of my very best friends,
My horses.
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