By Hilda Conkling

I’m going to have a horse Named Barberry,
His coat the color of barberry leaves
In autumn:
Russet red he will be
With flylng mane,
Strong and wiry,
His head slender and haughty!
Touch him . . . feel the life and joy within him
Run through you like fire!
He will be free as wind:
He will take me through forests away from people,
Past lakes, across rivers, into the mountains:
He will go galloping across corn fields by twilight
He will find me a coral beach.
His eyes will snap with joy of always being free.
People may give me their best horses . . .
Barberry for me, against them all!

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