When I Am An Old Horsewoman
I shall wear turquoise and diamonds,
and a straw hat that doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my social security on
white wine and carrots.
And sit in the alleyway of my barn
and listen to my horses breathe.
I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night,
and ride the old bay mare across the moonstruck meadow.
If my old bones will allow and when people come to call,
I will smile and nod as I walk past the gardens to the barn.
And show instead of the flowers growing,
inside stalls fresh-lined with straw.
I will shovel and sweat and wear hay in my hair
as if it were a jewel.
And I will be an embarrassment to all
who will not yet have found the peace
in being free to have a horse as a best friend.
A friend who waits at midnight hour
With muzzle and nicker and patient eyes.
The kind of woman I will be
When I am old.
An old horsewoman.