Sixcess Lassie
6/1/95 - 5/14/04

Flying over a Field
a poem written by my middle daughter

As I fly in a field I hear the birds singing on hanging branches.
As I ride in the saddle I smell the flowers,
hearing them swish and sway like they were dancing in the field.
It is Spring and I hear the birds flap their wings.
They sound like soft flutes.
The sounds of Spring--
the birds singing, the flowers dancing,
and always the soft whisper of hooves on the grass and the dirt.
As I fly through the flock of flowers I feel peaceful,
for I have determined hooves under me and they will never fail me.