Splintery as legs of spring foals the willows bend
Over Troublesome’s sudden banks hemming drifts of sand
Against slow thin water, against the mare’s stiff heels
Wheeling in the dry creek bed with casual step;
And the sun-pierced shade of willows settles unsteadily
Among the throng of stallions champing their bits
And straining new leather with arrogant heads.
High in their polished saddles the traders ride
With stinging lash and blunt spur deep against the side
Of goaded pony, of anxious filly swinging heavily,
Of spavined mare plucking heels with sharp precision
From bedding sand. Combed, curried, and clipped,
Their smooth breasts glisten, and long muscular necks
Rise clean and springy into tight bridles.
The traders measure with keen practiced glance
The height from withers to croup, feel trembling flesh,
Rub hard careless hands over quivering muscles
And peer coldly into moist sad eyes.
Only the foals toss unbound heads
With flash of hock and unsheared flowing manes,
Flexing clumsy legs in short unhindered quests
Down the aisles of sand to the hill’s uplifted girth.
An untamed heart is swift upon the earth.