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                “I can’t hear you,”
                I yell, just so he’ll shout it again.

                           - Verlena Orr (“Sixty-Nine & Pushing On”)

Certain things we need to hear
twice to sustain a mantra
that might stick, that might

someday come true again –
sweet delusions wrapped in time
waiting to be set free.

I have let the old horse
with nothing to do for years,
lose his manners, think we exist

to serve his memory when
we were kings a horseback,
hearts to grace the ground with –

Damn, both young and something!
He gets the barn when it rains,
feels the barometric pressure

falling, sees the halter in my hand
he thinks he doesn’t need,
nosing it impatiently.

I make him stand
to remember who we are –
two old men headed for the barn.

Rain: .14"


Geesh John--you aren't THAT old!

Relative, of course. I just love the poem by Verlena Orr, an Idaho writer.

Outliving our horses and dogs, as well as our fathers and mothers, is generally our lot. Watching it happen is part of the process.

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