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October 2013, vol 9, no 3

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Susan Miller

Last Ride

Trees undress. Fall's burlesque. Earthen air entices, slices sleep away. Radio squawks chance of crystal rain. Shake the pain.

"How 'bout a cuppa joe? No? Scat, cat, you ain't no welcome mat."

Bully blue jay screeches songbirds away. Sound like gravel-dry brakes. Frost-frozen solitude. Sparkle white-gold sun.

Soft nicker warms cold heart. Breath puffs small life clouds. Equine muscles glide 'neath winter coat. Emotions choke.

Sway of saddle soothes body and soul. I'm gettin' old. Still searchin' for that heart of gold.

Rocks clatter, argue with iron shoes. Original four-wheel drive digs craggy hill. What a thrill as red fox yaps, unaware of our company.

Our scent mingles with silver-dollar flakes ... drape across her nose; off she goes. We follow, old horse and I. Throw caution to the sky. I cry. To stay sane.

Last ride down my Autumn's lane.

evening song
death in indigo shades
no regret