The horses graze the winter slope
and then go to the high ground
and stand, watching the traffic
along the road, the slow river,
the trees leaning and straightening
in the wind. The day's time
is their time. They do not move
toward it or away. Their minds
are at home in this world,
diminished by no question.
Photograph: "Bachelor Band of Wild Horses Face into the Wind Picking Up Scents" (originally black and white), by Melissa Farlow.
My favorite poem by one of my most favorite writers.
ReplyDeleteSo much peacefulness encapsulated in this compact poem.
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