a mare hangs her head out
the window at the side of the barn
staring all the way across the field
transfixed on the farm next door
day after day never leaving
even at the bidding of her filly
whinnying and prancing along her
hooves below the window
growing impatient of mother
baby leaves to prance her own way
into the field chasing flutterflies
outside her play takes her farther

on the wild flowers reaching up

resolved to grow and paying
no mind to the filly’s hooves –
occasionally the petals crushed
suddenly a braying from afar
her mother’s rolling voice
pricking her ears lifting her head
stretching it first towards home
then behind her where surprise
another face reaching over the fence –
eyes dark and lively piercing into her
as she stands there staring into eyes
the breath retreats from her lungs
unexpectedly not from fear but rather
from shock – she has never seen another –
her Mother but this is a different kind –
bigger and with a mane as black as her
straightened he stands exquisitely
the sun highlighting thick cords of muscle
legs as large as her tiny body
braying again and then a quick whinny
turns her head home and then back
her mane blown by a low deep grunt
her eyes squinting into hot breath
a nudge – gentle but forceful – pushing
from the fence where he stood staring
across to the barn window behind her
she didn’t want to return there
a nudge again and another grunt
an excited whinny then he stomps
hooves – pawing dirt and crushing flowers
she notices dead petals for the first time –
she turns to stare along the path she’s left
trampled all the way through the field
to the barn – the stallion nips her behind
she runs straight to her mother
still window living inside the barn
try as she might her mother won’t
listen – so she throws her little body
into the legs holding her mother’s
position – still whinnying out the window –
over and over, she tries to get attention
payed, with resolve pressing
desire out fully again and again
the filly tiring before too long
from vain attempts to pull
her mother away, returns
her own attention back to the door
running back out into the field
of flowers – the flutterflies scattering
hurriedly out of her
way – a straight line to the fence

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