Judith Sanders: Feeding the Horses at Crystal Spring Farm

Out past the empty barn,

twin Percherons, tall as steeples,

canter across their meadow

to greet my small son and me.


We offer wild apples

on suppliant palms.

The horses dip

their magnificent heads.


I lift my son so he can stroke

the bony slope of their noses,

the solid planes of their necks,

furred in sun-warmed velvet.


The horses, tails flicking flies,

nose the shaggy grass

and tear off bristly mouthfuls

of autumn’s crisped stalks.


I too would like to tear off

mouthfuls of this autumn day 

garnished with goldenrod,

spiced with purple asters.


To gulp down sweet air

suffused with sunshine,

the scarlet tipping the maples,

the rocking drift of falling leaves.


I would like to distill an elixir

like that which strengthened

these massive, glossy creatures,

once slender foals,


the way I once distilled

all I ate into milk.

I would offer it to my son

in a hollowed wild apple


on my suppliant palm.

Copyright 2021 Judith Sanders

Judith Sanders is a writer living in PIttsburgh.  Her poetry collection “In Deep” is forthcoming from Kelsay Books.

This is the same horse 5 years apart. Gray Percherons are born black and slowly turn gray.