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.

~ Anonymous