O.S.I: Free(dom)

Hi all,

This poem is written for O.S.I. The theme this week is free(dom). I've also woven in my sixth day of Christmas: Six Geese A Laying : )

Horses dream of flying
Her father fancied
His voice echoed in the shadows
Down the valley and shallow creek
Jules astounded, stretched against his knees

Her eyes beseeching him to speak

They trot in open fields
Galloping wide into the sunset
Stretching in the heavenly stars
The wind riding in their mane

Reaching the border of a farmer’s fence
Kicking and neighing with all their might
Laying their heads upon the post
They retire to green pastures
Gnawing on dew grass

They marveled at birds in blue skies
Soaring beyond their reach
Six geese laying their wings
Against their worn, old backs
Taunting them to fly at last

Conquering freedom, soaring fast

Beyond their imprisoned gates
Jules had followed papa
Where the horses neighed

Thursday Tale: Old Friends

Hi bloggers,


This story is written for Thursday Tales.

Leanne was a sight to behold in her pink, frilly tutu. Uncle fancied her with cowgirl boots and a wide brim hat. Her eyes swam in blue skies along fresh, green meadows.

“She’s a real country gal,” we laughed, as she modeled her new clothes.


The country air buoyed Leanne’s spirit. At home, she was the shy girl with dark eyes. But visits to Uncle’s farm sparked a quiet brilliance in her. In the wind, we watched her soar with invisible wings.


“I’ve got one more surprise for you Leanne,” Uncle jested with a jovial smile. “How bout it ole’ girl. Let’s go have a look.” Her deep, brown eyes leapt up in wonder as we walked alongside her. A large, chestnut horse was visible beyond a wooden fence. Leanne looked up with tears in her eyes.


“For me,” she asked softly. She tottered slowly towards the fence, her arms stretching in the wind. Her mind had already embraced the horse, stroked its wide back, and laid against warm chestnut. But the horse barely raised its head to look at her. She trotted slowly in the opposite direction.


“Horsey,” Leanne wailed. Shakily, she climbed the fence, shrieking at the top of her lungs. No one could reach Leanne before she tumbled into the horse’s field. She sobbed uncontrollably in the grass. Her fingers tugged mercilessly at her dress and tears stung her cheeks.


Instinctively, the horse galloped towards Leanne. Her hooves thundered in a rapturous trot. Uncle cautiously laid down his hat and stooped beside her.


The horse dropped her brown neck low swinging her dark mane. Leanne smiled and rested her hand against its nose. Their eyes met in quiet contemplation greeting as old friends frequenting time and space.

Sky Watch: Horses

Hi bloggers,

Here are a few photos from a recent visit in Central Park. The horses were out to play!!

Swaying with a trot
City horns dare not honk
Rush hour beneath the hooves
A bit of country in the city