Day Nine NaPoWriMo

The morning the red roan foal arrived
snow fell, though the first buttercups
were blooming in the pasture where the mare
and stallion, matching roans as well
welcomed this strawberry horse.

It was Easter, a cold March of a year
full of coming changes, that were already
as heavy as the weather pushing 
down onto this newborn. 

I stopped my car
along the road, leaned
into the wind and cried
hello hello hello but only felt
imminent farewells pushing
my words back at me.

                                               A morning ramble friend from Lens Belgium.