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Not Much for Poetry

November 4, 2013
But once in awhile I read something that strikes me.   Just insert cow and rhubarb wine where appropriate and we’ll be on the same page, kind of.

Ms. Jane Butterfield

Ms. Jane Butterfield

When I Am An Old Horsewoman
I shall wear turquoise and diamonds,
And a straw hat that doesn’t suit me
And I shall spend my social security on
white wine and carrots,
And sit in my alleyway of my barn
And listen to my horses breathe.
I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night
And ride the old bay gelding,
Across the moonstruck meadow
If my old bones will allow
And when people come to call, I will smile and nod
As I walk past the gardens to the barn
and show instead the flowers growing
inside stalls fresh-lined with straw.

I will shovel and sweat and wear hay in my hair
as if it were a jewel
And I will be an embarrassment to ALL
Who will not yet have found the peace in being free
to have a horse as a best friend
A friend who waits at midnight hour
With muzzle and nicker and patient eyes
For the kind of woman I will be
When I am old.

-Author Patty Barnhart

for the garden

for the garden

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12 Comments leave one →
  1. Eumaeus permalink
    November 4, 2013 1:14 pm

    Not much for poetry either but worth taking the time for it. And interesting the poems we choose. Reflective of our lives. Reflecting in our lives. One day when my apple and rose can ride, maybe we’ll get a pony. Good friends are hard to come by.

  2. Barb in CA permalink
    November 4, 2013 3:14 pm

    I love this! And while it may be presumptuous to say, seeing as how we’ve never met, I think it suits you well. You are your own woman, there is no question. You also clearly live life on your own terms. It seems to me that although you are not yet old (you and I are the same age) you have had the wisdom to do the things that bring you deep satisfaction and real joy. I could totally see you and Jane’s granddaughter sharing a moment on a sunny afternoon. You, with your glass of rhubarb wine, just giving a little scratch and listening to her breathe. Mmmm. Sounds nice.

  3. November 4, 2013 3:14 pm

    I loved it! Just what I want to be when I grow up. 😉

  4. Bev permalink
    November 4, 2013 3:51 pm

    That is an awesone poem. Love it. We have been a two horse family for many years. Then down to one. This past month we had to put our mare Sassy down. So hard. She was 34 years old and we had been there when she foaled. So many great memories. Our daughter went on many trail rides. Her kids had such great times. We and they learned much about the care of such gentle giants. Most of all we learned about love. Sassy greeted us with knickers in the a.m. and the p.m wanting her feed. We imagine that we still are hearing her. A ride in the moonlight on a summer night is wonderful. Jeans, manure and definitely a country kid. Ha, at 72 yrs. I am already on the way.to being an embarrassment to all. I hope in a good way. Thanks for sharing.

  5. November 4, 2013 4:03 pm

    That is very beautiful.

  6. November 4, 2013 4:43 pm

    Absolutely beautiful, Matron! And the photos compliment the poem beautifully, too. Well done.

  7. November 4, 2013 4:46 pm

    I’m going to share this on my FB page, so you’ll probably be famous shortly. Best to prepare now.

  8. Chris permalink
    November 4, 2013 5:35 pm

    Ditto~Barb in California! Beautiful Nita! And like Barb said…This poem is so you! 🙂

  9. November 4, 2013 6:33 pm

    Wonder poem by someone that knows how to plan

  10. November 4, 2013 8:49 pm

    What a lovely poem. I have never had the honor of owning a horse but I will be here, on my mountain, as long as I can stay… with my dogs and chickens because I live this poem too, only I substitute dogs for horses. It is with the same joy that I listen to my dog breathing tonight, in his sleep on the sofa.

  11. November 5, 2013 3:23 am

    That’s beautiful, thanks for sharing. I think I’m halfway there…

  12. A.A. permalink
    November 5, 2013 4:18 am

    Come on, give it up, when are we going to hear the first of your own?! 😉 Half-serious. The poetry that comes in your and your daughter’s pictures of butter and farm life, for example, might find its expression in words too. Maybe, maybe not. But it’s poetry alright.

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