Suppertime

The ponies all run; how they squabble and balk

They neigh and they nicker, and oh, how they talk!

Whenever I enter the pasture with hay,

They forget what they’re doing, there’s no more horseplay.

They follow my cart or wheelbarrow of food,

Usually not in the best-ever mood.

I know what will happen, I try to stay clear,

These ponies run ’round me ’till it’s hard to steer.

They love to come up to the wagon and eat,

I try to stay wary–in the driver’s seat.

The kids quiet down once I’ve spread out their dinners,

I’m glad that I do this–it’s not for beginners!

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