You’d asked your mother what a range was and she'd said fields like ours, only bigger.
And you knew that horses lived on the range and you wanted a horse read more »
Through the New Hampshire dusk
we walk beside an old stone fence.
Easy falling silent snow
covers a sleeping field,
all nature cloaked in white. read more »
At eleven, I led my new pony, Molly
away from Camp Winnecunnet Petting Zoo,
where she was fed chicken feed and kept
in a wire-framed stall so narrow read more »