Linda M. Fischer
While my three children were young, I wrote just enough poetry to give me an inkling that I might have an aptitude for it, but I wasn’t brave enough to throw my earning potential aside until my family was grown and I’d worked for a number of years. As time went on, I came to regret not having devoted myself to writing much earlier in life. The “now or never” decision came about 20 years ago—my late-in-life career—and the process of creating a poem still gives me enormous satisfaction. I’m gratified that my poetry is widely published in the small press and equally gratified by becoming part of a larger community of writers. For my publishing credits:
The Horse Walk
We determine to ride and check in
at the stable counter, signing off on our lives
without so much as a thought. My daughter
takes me through stop, go, left & right
with the primacy of superior knowledge.
This is why you send your kids to college,
I quip—the trail guides my wider audience—
as I am helped to mount Elmer, a dray
horse as substantial as an SUV. Single-file,
the two of us head out, flanked on either end.
Thus cosseted we pick our way along
a cut through the forest’s undergrowth,
the are-you-alright, Mom?s chiming out
with every clatter of hooves on rock.
When, I ask myself, did I become the object
of such solicitude? Have I already turned
that corner, the inevitable role reversal
between parent and child? The horse
under me, guided by the grip of my thighs,
I push—as I pushed then, until you slipped
away from me, snorting and impatient
as a colt struggling to stand on new legs.
-first published in Chiron Review
©2016 Linda M. Fischer