An Old Horse Named Nana
There was this big old horse
that lived out its final years
in the pasture next to our house.
When my boys were small they’d
feed the horse windfall apples
from the orchard. Bucket loads.
We couldn’t eat them all. Don’t
know anyone who can eat
a whole orchard full of apples.
Anyway, we thought that horse
had dementia — an occasional
long-term memory spurt when
it thought it was a colt again.
It’d run up and down the field,
the ground resonating drums.
And then it would stop, and
stare at our house, as if wondering,
“Where did that house come from?”
We didn’t know the horse’s name.
It wasn’t our horse. The boys
decided to call it Nana because
it wasn’t a cowboy sort of horse.
AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4). Image and poem ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
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