I’ve mended the white rope fences since May,
Pleasure watching, smelling of horse and mischief.
Every night after a storm, the wet rope and red clay.
Every evening when the sun is setting over Floyd ridge.
Some mornings in a rush before work,
but what horse cares for work?
Now, summer ends.
The pasture is high due to complications.
Husband builds a sturdy pine fence
as the horse watches.
The sun sets more northerly now.
And I run out after supper
To mend fences again.
Great White watches.
Someone once said that animals know more than we.
Oui, so it may be.
In the far corner yards from the big stone,
Two quick wisps of movement.
Two clever and young
taking off through the tall grasswinking with Pleasure.