And a straw cowboy hat that
doesn*t match and doesn*t suit me.
And I shall spend my social security
on white wine and carrots
And sit in the alley way of my barn
And listen to my horses breathe.
I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night
And ride the dappled mare
Across the moonstruck meadow,
If my old bones will allow.
And when people come to call, I will smile and nod,
As I walk them past the gardens to the barn
And show, instead, the flowers growing there.
In stalls fresh-lined with straw
I will learn to shovel and sweat and
wear hay in my hair as if it were a jewel.
And I will be an embarrassment to my only child
Who will have not yet found the peace in being free
To love a horse as a friend,
A friend who waits at midnight hour
With muzzle and nicker and patient eyes
For the kind of person I will be
When I am old.