her many horses

These look like crosses kneeling against the dying sun. I mutter this to myself at first and then  say it loud. And then I shout it because we are driving  79 mph in an 18-year-old vehicle across the  hot prairie with every window open.

THESE . . . #$% CROSSES . . . *bleep*bleep*  DYING SUN!

Hewhohaslivedmanyadyingsun laughs. My glum gloom doesn’t get him down. Tomorrow, he is sure, I will see the windmills for what they are: windmills, that’s all.

And he is sure I will have a new outlook once we get to where we are headed–into the middle of nowhere, because this wide-open space has always been the center of everything for me.

I am not so sure time spent in open country will cure what ails me. I’ve been so angry lately.

Somewhere in my forest, all the trees are down.  And all my horses, gone. And there are dead bugs on the windshield, dark spots in my sky.

 

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About redmitten

author of Cracking Geodes Open, Making Good Use of August, and The Peppermint Bottle. poetry editor for IthacaLit and YB Poetry Journal. website: https://toomuchaugust.wordpress.com

10 responses to “her many horses

  1. beautiful. stark. love it. x j

  2. that foto is remarkable – it does have a golgotha feeling to it for sure…..

    • redmitten

      i took the photo with my phone because the “crosses” were coming upon us so quick i didn’t have time to get my camera from beneath the seat. (and yeah i was busy shouting, heh)…after i looked at the photos the golgotha sensation hit harder…

  3. Sorry about your horses. These windmills are on the horizon now where I grew up. Beautiful. We tend not to mistake them for crosses, but one day we might.

    • redmitten

      there’s a poem in your post, kathleen (someday we might mistake then for crosses…) i’ll stay tuned and see what results with your windmills….

  4. If time spent in open country doesn’t cure what ails you, where does one turn? When we can’t change the circumstances, we hope for other magic. I wish that for you.

    • redmitten

      a monkish cowboy friend of mine reminds me that if we keep doing the same things and expect different results….
      well then if we can’t change what we do (that’d be me), then reconsider these expectations (and here, he almost but not quite points his finger at me).

      as it turns out, the next day the windmills were in fact windmills and the wide open space did what it does so well. thank you for your wish.

  5. Strong post, strong photo. Sometimes there’s no cure. For anything.

    • redmitten

      yes, for anything. no cure. and rather than that be the beginning of defeat, it can be the start of acceptance. a sort of leaning into the wind.

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