Equine Pedicure

By Chris McClure   Contributing Editor

For eighty-seven years Frank worked to build his place
Down near Okeechobee where the warm sun graced his face.
His daughter now was running things, but he pitched in each day.
Sometimes she got onto him, but he usually got his way.

Each day he ate his oatmeal and bacon, crispy fried.
Then he’d visit Bessie and maybe take a ride.
Some days the aches and pains would show there in his pale gray eyes,
But he never let it stop him as he sprayed old Bess for flies.

He led her out the gate, so her needs there he could tend
Even though his back was sore, and he could barely bend.
Observing that her hooves had grown and might just need a trim
He took her to the shed where he could work on them.
.
As the tiny flakes of keratin fell beneath his rasp
He cared for one he loved with her hoof there in his grasp.
Purpose filled his life as he held on to each day
Though tasks have changed as fading years have worn his strength away.