Ode to a 2-Day-Old Foal

the enso

A mare and her foal in a pasture.

"Renewal" by Diana Catron-Nurkowski

the poem

When you first stood, trembling,
your spindly legs as wobbly as egg noodles,
rib cage heaving with each earned breath,
you seemed amazed that you had been birthed.
You could not discern your destiny. You did not imagine
the wide red ribbons, the eager fingers
young girls would weave into your mane.
You did not yet feel the thunder
your hooves would smack down on a hard dirt track.
You had not tasted the pleasure of pasture.
You had no knowledge of duty or burden. But love
you did grasp as your mother
bent to caress your muzzle, your cry,
as you pronounced your life with a single whiny.

Date: Tuesday, 13. July 2010 20:00
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1 Comment

  1. 1

    Keep em comin’ Marlowe. Exquisite!