Carla Hawkinson, MFH with her soulmate, Forty-One, her inspiration for the poem / Joy Bragg This poem was first published in the Summer 2008 issue of Covertside when I was editor of that magazine. It was re-published in 2013 (the year the old horse passed away) in Foxhunting Life. It’s time for a reprise, if only to remind our readers that there are some excellent contemporary sporting poets still among us, though precious few.
The horse, Forty-One, died at age twenty-seven. He hunted the better part of nineteen seasons for the author, who was MFH of the Tennessee Valley Hunt.
Hark! Old horse.
Please meet me at the gate.
Hounds are leaving kennels soon,
And we will not be late.
Step up. Old horse.
Carry me to the meet.
Our years together count for much,
Though you’re no longer fleet.
Trot on. Old horse.
I know you hear the horn.
The hounds are in the valley now,
The fox is in the corn!
Kick on. Old horse,
My soulmate and my friend.
Our years together hunting are
The best that’s ever been.
Leap up. Old horse.
Take the bit and fly!
I still trust you like no other,
Even though the fence is high.
Walk on. Old horse.
We’ll soon be hacking in.
Your nicker rests beside my heart.
Our souls entwine within.
Hark! Old horse.
The years reveal our fate.
If we should part before we wish,
Please meet me at the gate.
Posted August 13, 2020