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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #1590369
What I remember most about the tiny pony
THE SHETLAND
August 5, 2009

It stood on
four skewbald
legs and
blinked between
the brown
beams like
stars caught
in a timber
web. It poked
its prickly muzzle,
nostrils curious,
inhaling, opening
and closing softly,
warmly, like
a breathing finger into
the hot air and
sniffed me. My
hands, my
pockets, nibbling on
my shirt sleeves,
searching
for carrots.
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