Fingers in the worn glove curve to meet
the shape of the wooden handle in my palm.
Muck boots shuffle, pulling the cart while
a group of resting horses follow me with
soft eyes. Not an intruder or visitor, as
ordinary as a barn cat. I work the gate,
announcing myself, “Housekeeping,” come
to clean, check legs, cool my thoughts,
make things right. A gelding may wander
over to share a breath but more likely,
to contribute to the wealth of spent-hay
piled on the ground. I rake the droppings,
leaving tine marks in the soil, scooping
along bits of my own emotion. My fork
slides under the pile, lobs it the distance.
The horses continue napping, nibbling hay
remnants, swishing flies. More tine marks
collecting manure, doubt, and fresh grudges
ready to become fertilizer. Another fork
load tossed in an arc through the air so
grains of dirt can separate before it lands
mostly in the cart. No urgency, just a
rhythm to slow my own beating. Compost
my feelings evenly, use the fork to arrange
ideas between parallel tine marks, fresh
inspiration can rise from night soil. Tugging
the load back out the gate with a nod to
the geldings in the dry lot, once again sane,
restored by a meditation of manure and
hoof-prints and imperfect lines in the sand.
Perfect.
I can picture every move in my head…. and feel it in my back, lol.
I forgot that part…
Wonderful messages in this. Thank you. jw
Thanks for reading it!
You put my feelings into words perfectly. I love cleaning the run-in, letting the horses amble around me as I work. They calm me like nothing else can. Thank you for the right words.
You’re welcome, Dianne, muck sisters unite!
you’ve got it perfectly.
My favorite line?
“Housekeeping”
though I’ve always thought of it as “Barnkeeping”, I like housekeeping better.
Emily
You and I always unite on this topic… thanks, Emily.
We call it “Rrrooooom Service!” Got to roll that “r.” And for a fresh deposit whilst actively engaged with the wheel barrow, “Towel Boy!” a borrowed phrase from the Night Shift movie, starring Henry Winkler and Michael Keaton.
Muck party!
Great picture – wonderful words!
Thanks, Maggie.
Perfect poem about what taking care of horses means to me. The therapy, meditation, and satisfaction in the daily poop patrol is magical! Thank you for expressing it with so much clarity!
Gotta love the poop. Thanks Caren.
Lovely and heartfelt. It makes me miss my herd in Montana. Thank you for sharing ? Happy New Year
Thanks, Christine. Hope you get to pick up the fork soon.
My routine, captured so eloquently. ❤
Chores are love, thanks, Gail.
I generally manage to clean up something everyday – just to get it away from the feed areas. Very therapeutic work – unless something hurts as Susan mentioned.
Thanks, Leslie. Yay for the peace that comes from tidiness.
You can really visualize everything.
Sent from my iPhone
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I’m a visual typer… Thanks, Chaz
I love ‘fluffing’ up the horses duvets (straw) when I’ve mucked our their stalls and always call ‘room service!’ Glad I’m not alone in my love for the poop !! ?
Thank you, Frances.
I’d give a lot to be able to do that kind of housekeeping. Sure beats dusting and picking up dirty socks.
That’s for sure. I try to adapt, but no, not really. Thanks Aquila.
Who else could write such an engaging poem about mucking? Love “Housekeeping”.
I never really thought about the steps involved and what they could mean to me. Every line is so visual.
You made me smile. 🙂
Thanks, Jean. It keeps me level to be out there.
Happy New Year, Anna Love the entire piece, and especially “sand of a dry-lot Zen garden”. Indeed, despite “formal” sitting and walking meditation times, my favorites occur when I walk through the gate or the barn door!! Metta Patricia (Spencer)
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Lots of places to sit.. Thank you and happy new year.
You are burning so bright Ms Anna, such an inspiration to all of us! And a sign of what this year holds for us. Can you feel it (doing the happy poop dance, you know the one, when your horse has quit passing, and then lays down a big pile and we take a deep breath, ha or was it the other way around) We are becoming the fireworks, DrP
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Thanks, Dr Penny. You crack me up, it might be that other way around. thanks for the kind words, writing is really interesting these days. It’s like horses; it goes better when I don’t try too hard. Best to you in the New Year.
Thanks, Anna! I always think of it as therapy…but it sounds so much better the way you express it!
Thanks, Judy. This was fun to write.
Thank you for so beautifully expressing my thoughts today. This one’s a keeper.
You’re welcome, Elaine. We are a sisterhood of muckers.
Your poems are so thoughtful and thought provoking. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for reading along, Vicki.
These are amazing, Anna. So glad you’ve added poetry to your blog posts. I don’t know that I’ll ever meet you but your insights have changed my horsey-outlook. For the better. Thanks–
Dawn
Thanks, Dawn. Your horse is probably telling you thanks, too. And thanks for liking the poems. I’m publishing a collection of them this year, tentative title: Horse Prayers, Poems from the Prairie.
You forgot the part where you almost impale your midsection on the handle when you hit a pile frozen to the ground! A solid ‘ooof’, that. No wonder people look at me strangely when I say taking care of my critters is a bright spot in my day – beats in-house work by a mile.
We’ve had a dry fall and I haven’t broken any forks yet, or I’d remember the ‘ooof’! Thanks Sherry. (Housework is for saps. And my house backs me up on that.)
Yes to everything everyone else said so well too!
And we have “Housekeeping!” and “Room Service” too 🙂
Love and best wishes for a Happy New Year to you Anna, and all of the blog followers who contribute as well.
Hehe, thanks Ellen, and best wishes to you and yours, as well. A better 2018 for all of us.
I actually miss my morning therapy sessions. Lovely, Anna.
I bet you do miss his muck and his sweet face, too. Happy New Year, Max. A year of change and adventure for you!
I saw him on the 30th. I’m pretty sure he’s 17+ hands! He is a sweet man … He seems to be starting to mature.
Really! What is that causes our darling equines to let go of breakfast, right next to the cart after we’ve finished morning chores? Perhaps some deep seated stimulus response. Anna, I would like some poetry or pros on the challenges of chipping poopcicles off the barn floor in 2 degree weather. Can you tell I have my winter mood on?
Heheh. Never thought I’d say this, but I envy you. We are dry and worried about next years hay. It’ll be more expensive when they poop on it, I fear.