Pow

     The field is open again, and the pows have returned to graze. I like the pows Whip smart, they trundle low to the ground, eating grain and flowers, though they especially like treats fed from hand. They are a sight to see, running in seeming formation across the open fields, kicking up their heels and squealing in delight. Some are spotted, some are dotted, some sprout tiny horns, while others are sleek and round, solid shades of the russet rainbow. They are magical creatures and good friends to a lonely child on a farm.