While Driving in Warwick, New York

There is the silence
I covet. A white mare
deep in her meadow,
wading in the shade
gifted by a pair
of stout oaks,
their limbs twisted
together, rising
and rising above
a rail fence.

The mare swishes
her tail, twitches her
ears at the flies
that love her
even more than I love her;
yet, she cares only
for the apple
nestled in the tall grass
that hides her ivory hooves –
only for the apple,
and I envy her.

by S. Thomas Summers

Twitter: @summerspoet

Editor’s Note: The short lines and repetition of imagery lends itself to the haiku-like realization that unfolds at the end of this lovely poem. I, too, envy the mare.