I was among the unfortunate six people staying at Ryton House (bless Gail Bradnam's soul), that got forgotten by the bus Sunday morning during Int'l Donkey Week. We missed the lovely service at the church adjacent to Town Barton Farm. However, once we arrived it was well worth it. The Donks and Mules lived up to my expectations of being the 'cream of Devon'. I fell in love each day actually! and Town Barton was no exception. There was Chestnut the Mule, Wilson the young 'nervous - don't worry if he doesn't come close' Mule, who did come close to me and let me (albeit briefly), stroke his muzzle and reassure him he had a lovely home. And then there was the very 'special' soul that stole my heart. His name is Bertie K. I always would at every farm visited anticipate who would approach me, then ultimately they would become my 'favorite' for the day! So it was with dear Bertie K. This poem is for him and Sharon Cordwell (groom at Main Barn) who I promised I would write a rendition for.

Waiting for Bertie K.

We sat motionless
Because everyone knows
You can't hurry the wind.
What a start to the day I thought!
Little did I know
I was really waiting for Bertie K.
He approached me straight on
I slid into his eyes
His hidden Donkey wings beating
Against my heart.
He was old and implicit
An impresario of cuddles!
Yet I swore I could see
Stars tossed in his mane.
Aging perhaps, just like me
But his soul still had green leaves
Which would come forth in season.
Dear Bertie K.! my hands did yield
As you lifted your air scented muzzle
And slid it my way
On this bright crisp day, let go of reason
Just bring me back...scratching your back
One fine day.