Second cup of coffee while waiting for
light, a second cup while waiting to head
out. The horses have thick coats and long
hair on their legs. They will still have hay
from the late feed, they need nothing.
This is their time. Wait. Let them have
the night. Boots over heavy socks, the
last sip cold in the cup. Just a bit longer,
until the sun cracks the sky to a lavender
blue, long pink clouds stretch from the
east to the west. With my jacket collar
up, fingers deep into my gloves, the chain
on the metal yard gate rattles and clangs
behind me, as an owl on broad wings silently
coasts across my field, going to rest in the
elm by the pond. Night surrendered for day.
…
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
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To give them, to give ourselves, that space and time in which to exist as we are….it makes it all better, even as we yearn. Coffee. I like the domesticated, the human, and the wild in this poem.
Thanks, Linda. Yes.
I could feel myself being there.
You’re welcome…
Mon thru Fridays I exist in the city to work the job that funds my weekends, when I do my living in the country. I dream of mornings like you just described, that don’t have the imminent arrival of Mondays hanging over them. Please Lord, let me live to enjoy retirement! I slip to the barn under the cover of darkness and take my coffee there with the rising sun. Sometimes the horses are already there but I sit & sip silently, no words spoken lest the spell be broken as together we wait for dawn to greet the day. My latest foster wants to be close but I’ve figured out that of course it’s not me he wants; he LOVES the smell of my coffee! So there we are, me inhaling him and him inhaling the aroma of my steaming cup. Enjoying the moment. It doesn’t get any better for me.
A work in progress, Sueann. Money and horses… thanks for sharing your morning.
I’m starting week #4 since having my left hip replaced. The disruption to my morning routine is beyond frustrating. It’s odd how the “work” aspects of horse keeping are so therapeutic and comforting. For now I wonder among them watching, listening, and waiting for a greeting so that I might offer a scratch on the withers. Oddly, they look as confused by my non- routine presence as I do. Thank you Anna for the lovely reminder of what awaits me if I am patient.
Oh Laurie, a good steady healing to you. When I had foot surgery, I was trying to not get bucked off my knee cart on icy uneven ground and so at odds with the day. I hear you. Best wishes.
Morning!
Heheheh. Morning, Lynell.
Nice! Love your sky, one I really miss, having moved from New Mexico a few years ago.
My morning in Washington state has started with a lazy, dusting of snow. So beautiful.
I remember the hundreds of days during my law enforcement career when I’d look out my kitchen window and curse the snow. Now it would be my job to try to hold my own out on the roads and respond to accidents — over and over and over. I longed for the day I could look out my barn door, see the falling flakes lit by the barn light and love snow again, as a child.
It’s funny as you age you also have the opportunity to go back to your simple days as a kid. It’s a happy place.
I agree. So many “snow days” now, the best kind. Thanks, Sandy
Lovely, thank you for keeping me in poetry
Happy to… you’re welcome, Christine.
Anna, you are truly blessed!
Thanks, Lisa… sure feels that way.
Beautiful. Thank you.
Thanks, Deb