About Erin Stern
Chill October air and dime store cigarettes,
Mares grazing, heavy in the field.
The foal of last year, she forgets,
When it comes time for the new.
Jim has taken the weanlings away,
He leads them, prancing on the dew.
They cry for the life that used to be,
And crowd to look beyond the fence.
Old Jim laughs, his tobacco teeth
Like autumn's somber sunrise.
He lights another one and smokes
To colts' and fillies' lonely cries.
"I've weaned a hundred or more,"
Jim mumbles under his breath.
His hawk eyes have seen it before,
Sixty years of sun on a leather face.
Big hands gentle, calm the wild,
Big hands wide like pie plates.
And so October comes and goes,
From green untouched to meek and tame.
Noone knows them like Jim does,
The bays, chestnuts, and the roan.
Cigarettes, halters, hay and time -
Again old Jim is left alone.
© 2004, Erin Stern
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Erin told us about this poem: "...the idea came from an older gentleman that used to work on our farm. He spent his life training and breaking horses. He never owned one or lived in one place too long."
About Erin Stern:
I'm a graduate from the University of Florida, former Co-Captain of the varsity track team, and I currently live in Ocala, Florida. I have an old appendix gelding that I ride trails with (but that guy could chase cows or
go into the jumper ring... talk about a big heart!).
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