Farrier’s Visit

By Pete Tucker

The vestiges of Winter
Are still plainly in view.
Dirtied piles of snow, although
Are encouragingly few.

The clanging of the anvil
Means the horses being shod.
Spring rides are in the offing!
The farrier’s official nod.

His forge is fanned red hot.
New steel will soon take shape.
Sparks are flying at him,
No match for his rawhide cape.

Four beats will soon be heard,
A pleasing echo from the lane.
A gift from warmer weather,
Shod hooves’ distinct refrain.