With the sweetness and wildness of youth, Aria erupts into the paddock seeking her supper. The others have beaten her to the buckets of grain, and she is left without—or so she believes. She stands at a distance, drops her head.

Come here, darling. She tosses her russet mane and trots to the food in the place I indicate. I will never forget you.

There’s a line of dear creatures extending back in time. They swing like prayer beads sewn into my garments. The weight of our parting lends gravity to my steps.

eucalyptus trees buck in onshore winds

Janine Lehane

is a poet and artist who lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina. Her poems appear in Under the Basho, Failed Haiku, Telling Our Stories Press, Hawaii Pacific Review, and elsewhere.