Now that we have joined the middle classes
We engage in middle class pursuits.
Saturday morning is for the riding school -
A high-roofed, open-gabled barn,
Where the sunlight slants in
And martins flit from beam to beam
Filling the air with wings
Above the thudding hooves and high, clear voices.
The earthen floor is strewn with straw
And the air is warm and sweet.
Will our children remember their Saturday mornings?
Taken in the second car to ride Bridie and Dawn?
Talking of rising trot and mislaid brow bands?
How foolish, how parental, to expect joy!
What you get is a pout -
Because Joanna has a pony of her own.
Support and friendship for those whose lives have been affected by estrangement.




