Pasha

Pasha, your funny little guy
conjuring mane braids;
curious and peeking. hide-and-seeking;
and
impishly leading the Other Man on a chase.

Pasha, your partner
took you
laughing and galloping
along shadowy riverbed and green rug pasture
and sometimes, measured plodding,
through chill brrr snowdrift
or along bough-barred trail and oozy bog
to share in the bounty of lilikoi
armfuls of flowers
tomatoelets
and one more carrot.

Pasha, your soulmate
with brimming brown eyes
to mirror your smiles;
and cheek-soft muzzle
to wipe your tears;
and muscle-rippled neck
to hold in your arms;
and his gentle spirit
to soar forever on winged feet
in your memory.

Honolulu
August 11, 1987

[written for Cheri W~ after the death of her Arabian horse, the only dependable male in her life for many years. I was the Other Man.]