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The Mad Farmer's Wife Delivers the Foal, poem by Rita Quillen

It is the turn­ing I most remem­ber: Just anoth­er ordi­nary day I woke and looked out the win­dow. The mare stood with the colt half out of her, Mem­brane still com­plete­ly intact. I ran like a war­rior, butch­er knife in hand Stabbed into … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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