A Believer

A dirty carpet of March snow
underfoot, the sky a black iron bowl
welded into place by stars. The lantern
drew a circle of light around my feet,
invaded by my shadow. I was sixteen,
moved in the dim light to the barn,
alone except for the collie dog,
a rolling ball of shadows in yellow light.
My chore brought me from bed to the box stall
where our purebred Belgian mare
should have her colt tonight.
Mares like to have their colts in privacy.
Last year she lay too near the wall,
forced out her colt and broke its neck.
Tonight I am the guardian of unborn colts.
The mare stands as if she was carved from wood.
I speak calmly to her and she hears me
but other business concerns her!
I shove hay bales together for a bed,
pull a horse blanket over me. The lantern
stinks of kerosene but burns steadily.
No one to speak to, my life ages while
I wait. Sleep tempts me, perhaps I doze.