BABY LEO

He poked his head up over the stall
every morning,
big, perky ears,
eyes bright, full of love,
ready for another day
of playing with his ball
in the big field.

He was a late in life baby,
born too small.
But he had such life in him
that he grew.
Hand-fed by his human mother
when his birth mother
refused him her teat,
he became half-human, half-foal,
and my sister became all Mother.

He was only fifteen months old
when he was stricken with colic.
He tried so hard to stay.
The last day he collapsed inside the door
of the animal hospital.
His  bowel had ruptured.
Poor baby.
He had suffered so much.

Some losses we never get over.
My sister can barely say his name.

He was the sweetest foal,
an unexpected gift,
arriving like a comet,
and blazing across our sky -
 a star burning out
that was just too bright
to stay.

For Baby Leo, R.I.P.

This baby was buried, with the ball he loved so much, on my sister’s farm. He was the most adorable little being. He fought hard to live the first time, and even harder the second. But the fight lasted too long.

For The Sunday Muse