Wendy is a self-proclaimed "Cannabis Ambassador" and runs SC Smoke Shop with her husband in Greenville, SC.
Dimly, he could see her across the field
Every morning, near dawn, grooming her horse,
Brushing, combing, until the mane was soft,
Often she took the mare on a quick run
Taking the higher jump at the white fence
Catching herself, quickly, almost falling.
At first, he did not know he was falling
For her, his heart was still out in left field.
But soon, when he saw her through the white fence,
He found sweat on his palms, his voice grew hoarse.
His heart would pound as though he had just run,
He thought about her hair, her skin, so soft.
He did his chores while the light was still soft,
Pitching hay in the loft, almost falling
Once when she came from the house in a run,
Hair loose, she came flying into the field
And knelt, crying until her sobs were hoarse.
Quickly, he left the barn and leapt the fence.
Before, she was a myth seen through the fence,
He held her now, his tone of voice was soft.
No sound except the stamping of the horse.
As he brushed back her hair that was falling.
Her tears were cool, like dew fresh on the field,
She wept, he thought her tears would always run.
He felt so scared, his mind begged him to run,
But his heart kept him on this side of the fence.
His world, his life, were all in this damp field.
This hushed dawn light, the grass so wet and soft
Holding his dream as though she were falling
Like a bright star. Yet the sound of the horse
And her dark hair, smelling vaguely of horse,
Were real. Then soon his eyes began to run
But he brushed back the tear while it was falling.
He stared wide eyed over at the white fence,
He tried to fight, but still the lines grew soft
And his tears joined the dew of the field.
She turned toward the fence, he thought that she would run,
But her soft hand touched the tear that she found falling.
Together they left the field, walking toward the impatient horse.
© 2019 WENDY JD ROGERS