This is my horse Matilda. She was a cantankerous old thing when I got her, and she was really old when she continued on her way. I used to ride her around bareback, I even tried to run away on her once, but my brother talked me out of it because it was deer hunting season and he said we'd get shot for sure.She lived with the goats, I don't think she minded them at all, in fact they were probably good company.
I would like to share a favorite poem now by Roque Dalton (1953-1975) titled:
I owned a horse
more beautiful and nimble than the light.
Stamping, he was like a wave of blood.
A tiny storm with eyes.
An untamed mountain on perfectly molded legs.
My horse was born dead one day
and the shock on my face put the winds to flight...
(translated from Spanish by Hardie St. Martin)
I know it's kind of a depressing poem about lost dreams and whatnot, but I like it, keeps things in perspective a bit, don't you think?