Do I Like November?     by Tony Smith

My coat has grown much longer as the daylight fades away.
The grass is not so green or lush; they’ve started feeding hay.
      The east wind bites and joins the north; a chilling two-edged blade
      to bleach the green in dusty white, a carpet heaven made.

The other day she saddled up just before the dark.
Scary painted face she had; I knew it was some lark!
      I heard her mention, “Halloween” and off we went with cheer
      but when she knocked on houses just tomatoes hit my rear!

The day I dragged a cart around with sack of straw and face.
“Penny for the guy!” they shout while trotting out apace.
      The smell of baked potatoes and some sausage cooked in fire,
     the reek of beer; the shouts of glee; that extraordinary pyre!

Last night there were explosions with bright flashes so intense
and needlepoints of colour mingled round one flame so dense
     licking round a human form, black cloak and pointed hat.
     We galloped round our field in fear; why were they cruel like that?

The trees have changed to skeletons; the leaves a soft warm bed.
Fungi flourish furtively thriving off the dead.
     My hooves are sinking deeper now; mud fever; what a pain!
     But sometimes when the frost has been I walk on top again.

The nights draw in, the lights come out; I see them round the eaves;
fairy lights and what is that? A tree! My eye deceives!
     If they can put a fir tree in their window all to see . . .
     then let them make a straw bed in the living room for me.
                                                                                Brownbread Horse Rescue
                                                                                Ashburnham, Battle, E Sussex