A magpie sat on the white horse without a saddle.
The horse ambled toward the gate.
My appearance at the muddy pasture
meant carrots in spring or apples in fall.
The horse arrived and accepted my gift
one hoof in snow, the others in puddled snow melt.
The magpie watched from the horse’s back.
Three carrots vanished in loud munching.
The magpie flew to a fence rail
approached my hand and vest pocket, head cocked.
My pocket was empty of beetles, flies
caterpillars, spiders, worms and leatherjackets.
copyright © 2023 Kenneth P. Gurney
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