Round Up, by David Edward Kucera
Horses Were Almost His First Love
by MFrostDelaney
Horses Were Almost His First Love
by MFrostDelaney
While others think of horses in the west,
a wild frontier from some time long ago,
I think of them at home, just down the hill
where Daddy kept his horses in the barn.
At five or six a.m. we’d rise, the time
to feed them, clean their stalls. The time for me
in summer, fall, or winter’s cold, in spring
to capture him in moments, share the love –
watch Daddy work the chores he loved the best.
He’d often never speak. I wouldn’t know
his mood that day. He might be very still
as he filled pails. Or, he might tell a yarn
to me. More often he was like a mime,
his motions making real my fantasy,
that I could spend more time with him, the thing
I wanted most. But his shop was above
all else. He’d leave and he’d be gone all day.
So five a.m. – that’s where I’d want to stay.
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