Filly

In the Paddock

Beneath a slate‑kissed August sky the filly trots,
her coat a gleaming patch of winter‑coloured flax,
her hooves a clattering rhyme on loam‑rich rails
that whisper stories of long‑past foal‑play.

She bounds across the glade, a bright‑shining sapling,
her lashes flickering like clipped sprigs of green.
Her ears, a double‑tipped banner, scan for every fernside breeze,
her tail a swirled banner of blush‑sewn silk.

The stable hands, with gentle knickers, bring her a fresh```​

(Note: The poem above is meant to evoke the lively spirit and gentle grace of a young filly on the open English countryside, using British spelling and terminology such as “colour,” “knickers,” and “saddling.”)