MY PONY

by Lee Stern

I don’t know if my pony likes it where he is.
Or if he’d rather be back with me.
I spent a lot of time asking myself that question.
When I should have been asking myself other questions.
Like, are they feeding him apples?
And letting him roam freely in the field when he chooses?
Have they given him a quiet place in the barn
where he can be with his mother
when that strikes him as the thing that he wants to do?
Or are they doing other things, perhaps?
Are they letting him roam over to where the bell tower used to be?
And where the man who rang it quietly one day,
rode steadily away on his horse?