Pony Poets - The Wheel Story
Pony Poets - The Wheel Story
Pony Poets - The Wheel Story
"Daddy," said the tiny filly, as she watched events unfold in front of her.
"Yes poppet," said Glyn leaning hard against the carts side and lifting it off the ground.
"Mummy said we could make up another poem." She turned to Sam, studying her mother as she lifted the wagon wheel back onto its axel and deftly refitted the thrust washer and peg. "You are so strong mummy!" she said with a gasp.
Glyn laughed as he lowered the cart back to the road. "I had the lions share of it," he said with twinkling eye. But his daughter was right, his special pony had the muscles of an ox under that salmon coat. She had been named after her colour, her parents originally drawing up a long list of names ready for her birth. As soon as they had seen her, they had screwed it up and thrown it into a bin. With a coat like that she had to be named Salmon, or Sam for short.
He grinned before reciting, "I'm lifting up this heavy cart, straining hard, trying not to F?"
"Noo!" screeched Sam, before rolling around on the grass and laughing with her hooves in the air. "Not another word Glyn, or we'll be back at the school house trying to explain why our daughter has again said something inappropriate to her age."
His daughter was bright, intelligent and a fast learner, but had also inherited her parents' wicked sense of humour, and was no better than them at keeping a low profile when required. "Okay, okay, what is our poem to be about then little Fish? Is it to be about farming or being a traveling sales pony, moving from town to Town?" He asked his favourite filly.
'Fish' was her nickname, because of her capability to fall into water at any given moment. Following in the footsteps of her mother she had been named after her colour, another list of baby names landing in the bin. Her soft light grey coat had given her the name cloud.
She put her head on one side, staring at the water filled rut in the road. "Do we know any sales pony's?"
Sam grabbed her attention before her daughter could make a move forward, "He's teasing you," she chuckled. "You wanted it to be about us, and we grow things, so it's a farming work. How about; The sun warms our crops to grow, between the winters snow?"
The stallion cob rubbed his front shoulder with a rear hoof and eyed his mare carefully. "I'm more for something like; we can rest ourselves from dusk until dawn, after that lift," he said.
A little voice piped up "We can deliver these turnips in the morn'."
Every pony laughed at this, but it had to be today. They reloaded what had fallen off, Sam lifted Fish onto the cart and Glyn poked his head through the neck collar, ready to haul their produce the remaining distance to market.
As the wheels rolled up the miles, they giggled as they set out the second line of their family poem. By the time they walked into the market yard they were pleased with; "We rest ourselves from dusk till' dawn, ready to work in sunlights morn'."
Upon arrival they were met by a very smart stallion, dressed in a tweed coat and holding a note pad. He stood and counted the load off, while everypony else available made to offload the wagon before home time.
"I can't believe you can pull that around on your own," said a grey mare, removing the last turnips in the front corners. "James' farm have two stallions pulling theirs and they still complain!"
"Who'd listen?" said Glyn. "And I've got the hottest mare in the land to impress, so I have to grin and like it," he smiled.
The journey home was much easier without the weight. They clip clopped along the road back to the farm, tired and ready for bed. After a while a small nose appeared over the planks at the front of the wagon, followed by a question. "Was it like this before I was born?"
Glyn and Sam looked at each other quizzically. "You mean weeding and tending crops? or the wheel falling off and us coming home to the farm in darkness?" asked Sam.
"Both," said Fish, an ear and an eye joining the nose.
"Well," said Sam, drawing out the word as she thought. "We pull weeds and tender crops. And the other stuff just sort of happens."
After another mile Glyn broke the silence. "That could be our next line? Or even two? We pull the weeds and water crops, lines of carrots and rows of hops."
Sam snorted at the thought of carrots. Their lunch hadn't even lasted until lunch time, and the turnips had been loaded to fill an order, so none were spare. She turned her thoughts back to the poem to take her mind off food. Even her corn sheaf cutie mark was starting to look tasty! "At least the evening was still warm," she thought, "And it might be nice tomorrow?"
Another line started to form in her mind as she said softly, "Through summers months we watch them grow."
Fish suddenly chirped in; "To harvest all before winter's snow." All eyes were upon her as she shrank back into the wagon apologetically. "I liked Daddy's bit about snow," she whispered.
"That's really good," said Sam "You get a mummy 'A' star for that one, but I think you'll find I was the bearer of snow?" The little nose reappeared wearing a grin.
Glyn added; "And like that wagon wheel turns, so does another year. We'll start all over again in spring."
Finally the cart was parked in the farm yard. Sam applied the brake and lifted fish down before she could make an ill judged leap for freedom. Nudging her little filly into the house and then to her bed, she only half heard the complaints about unfinished poetry. "We can finish it in the morning," said Sam quietly.
That wasn't working on her daughter and Sam wanted to finish it as well, so as not to be thinking of it as she went to sleep. "Then in spring we start again," she sang, re-arranging Glyn's words. And then, "Planting seed in hope of rain?". Yes, that was it, the final line. All was now well in the world. Fish was content to be tucked into her rug, they were back home safely and there were a few 'bits' in the bank account. That was something to smile about!
The End
We rest ourselves from dusk till' dawn,
Ready to work in sunlights morn'.
We pull the weeds and water crops,
Lines of carrots and rows of hops.
Through summer months we watch them grow,
To harvest all before winters snow.
Then in the spring we start again,
Planting seeds in hope of rain.
Team Idris
Author's Note
Pony Poets was a lot of fun so I decided to move forward in time and fill out the charectors a bit.
In this story you get their names and an idea of their life on the farm. Plus you get to meet their young filly.
I don't know if I will write more in the series, but I am having resin models made of glyn, Sam and hopefully Fish as I just couldn't help myself !
The third in the series is Pony poets washing day.
Pony poets (PP1) is voiced by my mum on my youtube channel 'teamidris'.
