Weekly Photo & Poem: Favorite

 
Her years on flat open prairie, the 
hard-scrap jumble of danger and chance 
left only the essentials: ancestral wisdom
and longear sensibility and eyes that watch 
with great vigilance from deep under her brow.
She keeps an entrancing distance. Magnetic 
in her independence.

A woman. The caretaker on a small farm with
a strong back for throwing hay, filling troughs,
mucking and repairing. Bringing a warm alfalfa
mush to her stall but not willing to make it
a bribe. Neither of us mere beasts of burden, we
have each been both predator and prey. We know
the value of self-reliance.

The earth’s sustenance has always been our
natural due. She acquiesces no allegiance, 
acknowledges no dependence on me. She can
make the choice to come closer, without debt, 
and the mid-day sun will warm our bones, a 
blessing on the wind-tossed prairie we 
share. Now guarded equals.

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
Horse Advocate, Author, Speaker, Equine Pro
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Favorites

Photo Challenge: Wanderlust

WM Edgar eye close

It’s the irresistible call
to scout hidden ravines and
gaze along the elevated vistas
from the edge of an eyelash.

A wish to explore generations
of memories, honor and courage
beyond self, cautiously stored in
the language of ancient travelers.

Ask permission at the gate,
take the solitary unmarked path
meandering the full distance
between his head and his heart.

….
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
Horse Advocate, Author, Speaker, Equine Pro
Blog  FB  Email  Author  FB  Tweet  Amazon  
(WordPress Photo Challenge is a weekly prompt to share a photo–I enjoy twisting these macro prompts to share our micro life here on the Colorado prairie. I take these photos with my phone, on my farm. No psych, definitely not high-tech.)

Wanderlust

Photo Challenge: Surprise

Dawdling through chores,
then a dousing in the shower
And rushing to a book event,
I checked the visor-mirror for

hay in my teeth. It was even
better; a coarse white hair
sprouting from my chin, long
enough to pull, too slick to grip.

Aging requires a tolerance
for physical betrayal but gray
mares like me hold hope that
a certain girlhood dream, one

that involved tossing mane
while cantering the living room
in tennis shoes, still might come
true. One whisker at a time.

….
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
Horse Advocate, Author, Speaker, Equine Pro
Blog  FB  Email  Author  FB  Tweet  Amazon  
(WordPress Photo Challenge is a weekly prompt to share a photo–I enjoy twisting these macro prompts to share our micro life here on the Colorado prairie. I take these photos with my phone, on my farm. No psych, definitely not high-tech.)

Surprise

Photo Challenge: Dense

Stupid. Dense. Stubborn. Lazy.

Until we stop seeing others
in our own worst self-image,
these words will describe us.

….
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
Horse Advocate, Author, Speaker, Equine Pro
(WordPress Photo Challenge is a weekly prompt to share a photo–I enjoy twisting these macro prompts to share our micro life here on the Colorado prairie. I take these photos with my phone, on my farm. No psych, definitely not high-tech.)

Dense

Photo Challenge: Cherry on Top

WM Edgar eye sunset

Maybe it’s just simple 
math. The cumulative tally 
of giving versus withholding. 
Of offering open space for 

a wisp of an idea, the maybe 
of risk and try. Or girding 
a torso in cynical doubt, 
clutching folded arms to 

concave ribs. It's passion 
and fear, added and multiplied, 
that equals the bottom-line 
sum: A messy chosen life.

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
Horse Advocate, Author, Equine Pro

(WordPress Photo Challenge is a weekly prompt to share a photo–I enjoy twisting these macro prompts to share our micro life here on the Colorado prairie. My photos are taken with my phone, on my farm. No psych, definitely not high tech.

Cherry on Top

A Lesson about Squeamishness and a Donkey.

WM mucking attireLook, it’s a selfie of me mucking last week. I like to get an early start in the summer. Over six hundred blog posts about this horse/life, and no one ever asks me for fashion tips. I wonder why?

I wasn’t always this sophisticated. I remember when I was maybe fifteen; it was morning and I was standing out waiting for the school bus. I glanced to scrutinize my outfit. I didn’t dress a whole lot better back then, but I certainly worried about it a lot more. That was when I saw them–maybe ten or eleven dark brown hairs that I’d missed while shaving. They were on the inside of my ankle, like a furry cuff. Like a Friesian fetlock. Continue reading “A Lesson about Squeamishness and a Donkey.”