He is here! Laying new on the golden straw,

He’s a beautiful, glorious, dark bay colt,

Endearing with his curly mane and tiny pointed ears,

And legs that are, to say the least,

Difficult to manage at this wee hour of his birth.

He’s a talker, this colt,

He greets us when we enter the barn,

With a tiny nicker and a nod of his tiny head,

Letting us know he could sure use some help

Getting up on his spindly legs.

But, within an hour, his story has changed,

He is showing off his little horse moves,

As his legs and feet now work just fine.

He can trot, he can turn and even kick up a bit,

He is very proud and thinks himself quite grand.

In my visions of him I see possibilities,

His hooves thundering faster than all others,

And his athleticism carrying him well over any obstacles.

His conformation could be the envy of horsemen from afar.

But mostly, in truth, I see a bit of stolen heaven,

I see us, companions and friends.