old
and sway back
unridden
in years, leaning in
the barn
towards
oats
and water,
the square of sunlight
on her matted hair.
wobbled legs in wet straw,
flies in the air.
loud cats
about to dissuade
mice.
i remember the smell,
the acrid
hang
of foul air,
and her, with her bucket
and hose,
her brush,
her apple and a carrot
in hand, whispering
sweet words
for the true love of her
life.
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