Horses In the Spring
by Connie Wanek
Beware too much happiness!
The horses paused suspiciously before the open door,
snorting and stamping, while sunlight poured
onto the cold cement. They smelled snow
in the barn's shadow, mud along the south wall,
matted grass in the thawing pasture.
Their nostrils flared and their ears
lay back, then pricked forward, far forward,
and they stretched their elegant necks
as if the world were offering thema slice of sweet apple,
as if the world were offering thema slice of sweet apple,
or something even more pure, on an open palm....
Found at The Wheel and the Disk here.
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