Iris

In the winter barn you are a warm wall I lean against now,

Your huge ribs heaving gently— Horse.

 

We breathed together-- friends, then,

As we drifted over hills that tumbled across

Yellow fields and green meadows hidden in the deep of summer.

You invited me, again and again –

“Climb on,I’m lonely.”

 

Your big body sways today on feet that aren’t enough.
Falling down feet is the disease you have:

Degenerative Suspensory Ligament Desmitis.

Iris!

 

I flung panic into the sky.

I thought you would die.

You look at me archly, as would a sage.

Your eyes, weary now, don’t smile:
“I am here, see me?”

 

After your fetlocks fell further down, someone said,

“Climb on her back --one more time.”


You do not invite me, and whisper: “I remember we were friends, in the sun that bloomed among the tall grasses, your hand on my neck as we walked through secret meadows sunk in shadows.

 

Be with me now. I’m lonely.”

 

I want to carry you.

Although Bobbie Miranda Crafts primarily writes short fiction -- both adult and YA, and some pieces where both converge -- Bobbie also writes poetry and belongs to an online poetry group she discovered when attending Spalding University’s brief residency program for a Masters in creative writing. She also founded and run a horse rescue/sanctuary.