Antony Christie
Sandy's Mare
today you are grazing
the top pasture
beyond the grey scree
close to the sky.
the first snow is lying,
lightly.
it is a month now
since we met her
at the end of summer
by the road gate
amongst harebells and hawkweed,
your owner, our neighbour,
and you stretched towards her hand
and she told us, yes,
she was feeling much better
and yes, she would soon be walking
without a stick.
you are growing, with foal,
more noticeably round.
it will be born in the spring,
your second.
your first died at five days
last April in the black rain.
do you remember how she spoke to you then
and touched you, softly?
on Monday they will put her
into the ground,
in the churchyard
by the low river.
Page(s) 39
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