She Should Be A Horse
for S, age 11
She trots to the bus stop like a horse her legs pumping needlessly in the air between each step head down and focused on the progress of her gallop I sit in grown-up judgment and think she should be more mindful of cars more aware of her surroundings that could be harboring disaster for the unaware I am the plow to the fertile earth of her imagination turning over and running to ground anything in the way of focus and intent and maturity I do not like my role in her imagination I do not think the clods and rough patches need to be smoothed over and pushed into valleys to accept the seeds in my pocket She should be a horse for as long as she can be She should gallop and play and let me tend the fear by myself from the front porch like a watchful rook on my tower perch Let me take flight and move with her Let her look up and see me and hope to one day replace her hooves with wings To let the field grow wild below us To let the earth mold all manner of new and wonderful things
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