PerPoBlo

Afterwards that good grey mare
galloped off into the deepening
furze of ramsons and scabious,
of spiders stumbling on the dusklight –
summer dowsed under her eye.
Her furrow-straight wake leaned from
the dwindling line of the hearse
as the tractor towed it back.
I stood empty-handed, her tack
slung over the gate below my elbows,
pockets full of sweet rolled oats.
Later she came back [...]