Derbyshire Stables

James is lurching toward the black and white one
He can only brush her long sleek body.
She’s a tease; she knows what she’s doing now
To this frantic but enthralled red-faced boy.
She eludes his mittens one final time –
Under the dusty shelf in the feed room
She lies, her eyes a kaleidoscope of
Autumn hues – a splendor that makes James tear.
Not yet tall enough to reach the rust latch,
He looks for help but sees only Beauty.
He knows she can’t open the door either.
Hopeless, he puts his hands in his pockets
Finds the carrot, remembers why he came.
He runs to the last stall to greet Tyko.

Anne M. Carpinelli, Class of 2008