G'day, Cyn.
Longtime since I've hade the pleasure to see your happy smiling face.
The mare appears
inconceivably long, concaved,
carrying five young riders.
The day grayed, though
it could be clear and blue-sky
bright - if not sepia toned.
It must be late autumn or early
spring, the leafless, budless branches
contorted in an unseen wind,
a stubble - corn? - beyond. The kids
grin, gap-toothed, grimy, barefoot, arranged
in ragged graduated size. But I find
I do not wonder much
about these children who must feel chilled
despite the dappled warmth beneath them.
Instead I care about the mare.
What imagery.
An old photo.
Could it be a mother with some youngins?
No matter what. A wonderful poem
I'm thrilled to see you back at MM.
jOHN