The Mare
By Stick
I saw a gang of wild ponies
Out on the prairie sward,
With a coal black stallion,
Who was leading on the horde.
He had one white stocking
And a star upon his head,
With mares and colts a'plenty
All hale and quite well fed.
He moved them like a general
To keep them safe and whole
Leading them to new pastures,
Safe havens to raise each foal.
They were made up of every color
From
blonde and chestnut, to mousy gray,
And
they gathered all close together,
To
be safe at the end of day.
But
there was one lone mare
Who
stood off from all the rest.
She
didn’t join the herd
Just
stared towards the west.
She
was a sway-back pinto,
Whose
ribs stood out bare enough to count,
And
it seemed like the next strong breeze
Would
be more than she could surmount.
Yet
I saw her every day
Throughout
the Spring and Fall,
And
each day I was surprised
To
still see her standing tall.
It
seemed to me she was waiting,
But
for what, I could not tell.
A
friend, a mate—I was not sure—
Or
maybe heaven’s clarion bell.
I
looked for her when winter broke,
And
the snow and ice were gone.
I
found the herd, new foals and all,
Running
through the desert dawn.
The
mob was all still standing,
But
of the mare, there was no sight
Perhaps
she found what she was looking for
Out
in the desert night.
