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October 2016, vol 12 no 3

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Lynn Edge


Horses hate it. Wind tickles their ears, it rustles through the grass, a piece of paper becomes a spook, and a slicker flaps like wings behind their heads. If they are in a pasture, they seem unaffected, but try riding a horse on a windy day.

distant thunder . . .
squeezing the saddle tighter
between my knees