The Equine Volunteer       by Tony Smith
Dedicated worker, a volunteer to boot,
mucking out the stables, feeding from the bin.
Dust makes you cough
And the broom head’s off
and hooves are kicking stable doors and making such a din.

Baler twine on hay bale slicing through your fingers;
pockets bulging horse cubes; halter ties your coat.
Try to catch a pony
thinking, “Oh, if only
that little beast would come to me, not run away and gloat!

Try to give a wormer and squirt it in the mouth
Every dose costs many pounds; retrieve it from the straw.
Fingers now with worm slime
Try again a second time
Down it goes into its throat and out your bleeding paw.

Brambles score a red line striping up the forearm;
nettles making blotches aggravate the chore.
That ragwort root
just doesn’t give a hoot,
for every time you pull it up, next year there’s always more!

Trudging through the meadows in a windswept rainstorm;
Searching in the dark for a horse called “Clown”
You call with a shout,
then your torch goes out
and the herd of drumming hooves nearly runs you down.

Gates you try to open always tied with twine;
fencing never strong enough to take the rump of horse.
Wellies tread on barbed wire,
barrow has a flat tyre;
just an ordinary workday for a volunteer, of course!