For the last week, we have been having a lovely snowfall–fine floury snow sifting down over everything, including half-built projects left from early fall. Walking out to feed Mattie, I bumped my toe into something I couldn’t see under the snow and realized that it was a fence pole that I had thought was stacked safely to the side of the path. I had changed the path in the snow, it turned out. With new snowfall every night, the tracks I make the day before become blurred white. With so much snow, the light reflects from everywhere at once, shifting my bearings and sense of perspective as I walk through it to give Mattie and Sam their hay.
So write about hidden things that emerge or about how what covers them over marks a shift of perspective. Write about the true things–like a fence pole–that disturb the fluffy surface of everyday.
Post your poem as a comment and I’ll add it to this post!
Tags: horses, poetry, Psyche, the unexpected, winter, writing, writing prompt
Mattie's Pillow 
November 22, 2010 at 5:39 am
I am writing now about the hidden sadness of missing my horse. When I retired I had to adopt him out and I still, after almost five years, long for the smell, the sight, the sound of him, and that warm spot under his mane where I tucked my hands on winter days. My goal this week is to find a horse to visit.
November 22, 2010 at 11:33 am
If you were closer, I’d invite you to visit Mattie and Sam who are as fuzzy as Teddy bears. I’ve had Sam for five years now–it went by in a flash.
I look forward to reading your memories. For years I dreamed of horses in my basement, waiting to be fed. I always thought the horses represented some unused part of myself, but when I finally had horses again, the dreams stopped. It turns out the dreams were really about horses after all!