This is one of a series of poems, written by my Grandmother, that represent a portrait of her childhood in Thomas Hardy’s Wessex, places and people she loved who are, for the most part, no longer with us. She dedicates each and every poem to her daughters, and has kindly given me permission to share them with you all, enjoy…
It was a day like this, like any other;
The horse would crop the grass and, chewing stare
To see if she was missing something better
Over there. A certain roundness showed the mare
Would drop her foal before too long. Unhurried
She moved across the meadow, lushly green
Silvered with daisies, gold-flecked with dandelions
– A timeless, lovely, English country scene.
What devil prompted the young dog that morning
To leap the gate and with a joyful bark
Destroy this summer idyll. He nipped her flank,
Gently, not hard enough to leave a mark.
But in her panic, she tried to leap across
The hedge. The unseen barbs tore at her dun
Soft belly. And then she lay there, crucified,
Her blood gleaming like rubies in the sun.
© Dorothy Davis-Sellick 1998 onwards