The Horses Are Fighting
By Jill Osier
They stand scattered and not
facing each other. Like black-eyed
susans lining the highway, or sisters
angry in some small kitchen.
The goats, they traipse a diagonal
through knee-high meadow,
following head to tail. Then
one decides to feed. Suddenly
they are strangers.
But how elegant animals seem
these weeks after your funeral, each
quiet despite a whole field, content
with any fresh mouthful.
Copyright © by the owner.
