Old horses
Leaning on fences.
Old horses,
Rubbing on trees.
Old horses,
Lazy rumps pointing
Towards the cold gusts
Of a southerly breeze.
Old horses,
Never a gallop.
Old horses,
Heavy hoofs slow.
Old horses,
Down by the creek-bed,
Down on the flats
Where the sweet grasses grow.
Old horses,
Sweeping tails twitching.
Old horses,
Tossing their manes.
Old horses,
Gone are the hauling,
The shouts of the driver,
The tug on the reins.
Old horses,
Sleepy heads hanging.
Old horses
Of yesterday’s teams.
Old horses,
Soft nostrils breathing
The wheezy contentment
Of hay-scented dreams.