In a field somewhere west of Dinton Pastures
The midday sun scorching my nylon 'trackies'
Six Li'l Sebastians barrel toward us
Their manes waggling with glee
We welcome them with giddiness.
Both parties are thrilled to encounter
The other after so long in their respective
Enclosures. Unsure, I pat their solid sides and
They shake their toothsome heads in joy.
My secret friend approaches from afar - 'Look
What we have found' I will say.
These ponies are surely ours now, or for
As many minutes as they will tolerate
Our city ways. Maybe offer my fruit pot.
Slowly the novelty shrinks and they graze
on tufts and thickets. One of my admirers
compliments me on my trackies, an
Unlikely item to select but beggars.
The other has arrived now but we've lost the
Dressing room, the tubby tribe have returned to
Their games and we to ours. The time for
Blessings was brief and miracles
Are for the dumbest of beasts.
After A Blessing, James Wright
