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From the road near the visitor parking we spied her,
brownish isolated mare, sway back, like the others,
round stomach, too much salt in the sea grass,
munching ceaseless, unfixed eyes, instinctively
aware of our presence: not caring for humankind.

What brought her here, in this swampy barrier beach,
apart from the wandering familial pony herd?
Rejection, unknown factaul reasons, illness...
I think not, the park service employees didn't know.

In her demeanor there were no clues,
perhaps the passing hurricane that skirted
thes Assateague shores reconfiguring the sands,
flattening the dunes, confused her,
making a loner, homeless you might say.

Or is that part of all us, civilised or not,
galleon descendants bearing onerous inclinations,
wanting escape, best to be left on our own.

28th September 2003

Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York, USA

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