Friday, February 6, 2009


Morning shadows fall
on the white stable
of thoroughbreds waiting
for alfalfa
green and fragrant.

I lift the bales
And think of my grandfather
Feeding his cattle
Four decades ago,
And know
That I carry his blood
In my veins.

I hear
the munching,
grinding, contentment
of horses being fed.

I feel
the blood pumping
of labor and sweat,
and providing for
these animals,
this hay.

I toss another flake,
and stand almost alone
in a flurry of floating green.

~Kathie Adams Brown
(September 11, 2000)

Happy Birthday Grandpa! I still miss you.

OSI Prompt 51: Spectral


  1. A very nice one, Kathie.
    I think I have permission from Kitty to print one of hers. Probably next Tues or Wed.

  2. Hi Kathie, Thanks for stopping by today. You are right, I do like this poem. Very nicely done. You have obviously tossed some alfalfa hay and breathed in the dust. Clever intertwining of the bloodlines theme. Pappy

  3. I've been writing several poems with memories of my grandparents as well - very touching.

  4. Really brings you into the moment, and a lovely moment too:)

  5. Bobbie, that will be nice.

    Pappy, I hoped you would like this one. And, yes I have tossed a few flakes of hay in my day and shoveled a few piles of manure too!

    Diane, it's a tender place to go to. I hope it brings happy memories and vivid imagery to you!

    Bookbabie, thank you!

  6. I like how you connected the generations of horses and people - nicely done!

  7. Almost alone. But not alone.

    This is magical.

  8. What a beautiful way to remember your Grandpa :-) The words speak your love well.

  9. This memory touches my heart. It is a beautiful poem. Your grandfather is a real presence yet!

  10. What a beautiful memory...I'm so glad you shared it with us in this lovely poem. You portrayed it so vividly...

  11. Beautiful! We never get over missing them...never.

  12. ..what a beautiful poem..many thanks..

  13. Your poem was beautiful and took me back to wonderful times spent at my grandparents farm.

  14. Each word is just perfect! And that ending!

  15. Oh woman, that "almost alone" gave me the good shivers. Just beautiful.

  16. Isn't it nice to have a memory link like this? Your poem is so lovely.

  17. I loved this poem and especially that it was in memory of your Grandpa!


  18. Such a beautiful memory. May the ghost of memories like this one never leave your side.

  19. Deborah, I was born on my grandfather's birthday, so he was always special to me and I felt special because of that.

    Sandy, you are so kind to have commented twice! Thanks you for your encouraging thoughts.

    Mary and kitehorse, than you also.

    Fledgling poet, love your name! Thanks!

    Tumblewords, no. The funny thing is, he was very reserved, and in his generation boys were the ones who should be interested in that kind of stuff. I don't think he quite knew what to do with me! I always felt connected to him and his love for nature and the outdoors. I think I was around 12 or 13 years old when he passed away.

    zoya gautum, thank you also.

    Maggie, so glad to take you on that mental journey. It is a sad fact that most children nowadays will not have such lovley memories of life on a farm.

    Linda, thank you for you kind comment.

    Quiet paths, the good shivers? I like that!

    fourwingshaiga, it is very nice to have a memeory like this!

    Pattie, I'm so glad to share it with you!

    amias, he is in my thoughts quite a bit actually! Thank you.

  20. Hey Kathie! Been thinking about you lately! Glad I could find you! How are you? Love seeing your creative juices flowing on the internet. Such fun.

  21. Lovely poem.

    Have a wonderful weekend.
    Mary Elizabeth.
    From Now and Then.

  22. ...oh my goodness. I love this poem. It is so vivid and powerful.

  23. This is great. I found your blog through skywatch friday and I am so glad that I did. The imagery and your memory of your grandfather are so vivid. I see that your postings are from work that you've written over quite a period of time. Your Swainson's Hawk poem is really nicely done as well. . . circling, circling, circling. branches sagging from the weight of it all. You can feel the hawk in the words. Neat.

  24. A lovely poem for your Grandad. You got my memory working back now.


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