The Wild Ponies

Cefn Bryn 


Trustfully they come from the rainy hills,

shiny in the summer dark.  Behold

their poor, wet backs and shabby

upheld muzzles as they jostle and barge.

One is a foal and limps without knowing.

Nor does the mother know but pushes her on

with quick little jabs: keep up, keep going.

They run straight past, calling in their high

righteous voices - though not to us. 



Katharine Towers 2017