The Runaway

A special post for "Inquiring Minds"

Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,
We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, "Whose colt?"

Colt

A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,
The other curled at his breast. He dipped his head
And snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.

We heard the miniature thunder where he fled,
And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey
Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes.
"I think the little fellow's afraid of the snow.

Running Through Snow

He isn't winter-broken. It isn't play
With the little fellow at all. He's running away.
I doubt if even his mother could tell hem, 'Sakes,
It's only weather.' He'd think she didn't know!

Where is his mother? He can't be out alone."
And now he comes again with clatter of stone,
And mounts the wall again with whited eyes
And all his tail that isn't hair up straight.

Brown Mare and Fowl

He shudders his coat as if to throw off flies.
"Whoever it is that leaves him out so late,
When other creatures have gone to stall and bin,
Ought to be told to come and take him in."

--Robert Frost

Thoughts for the Inquiring Minds:

• Why was the colt running away?

• What kind of horse is a Morgan?

• Where did the name come from?

Morgan Horse, Running Montana

Exercise your brain
Love Mimi