Little Sun Poem

A Sonnet

A new foal was born last night,
In our old barn,
Before the mornings light,
Our old hand Len told the yarn.

Of how she was born in the quiet hour,
He said when she came out she struggled and kicked,
Showing great signs of her parents power,
But her struggles stopped as her dam licked.

He said that as soon as she could stand,
She was wildest and most spirited of the bunch,
She could run and gallop as if she was mad,
And she loved to eat sweet grass, to munch and munch.

This foal we found was full of love and fun,
This is why we called her Little Sun!

By Jessica Young

This poem may be reproduced with the author's permission.