Mane
These are good hours, brushing muddy thoughts
through short-bristled minutes at the stables.
The horses are mostly calm. Apple-eyed, with
casual swish, their glossy mane surely one of
God’s better ideas. Not for such anomalies
as the capybara or the undecided dugong,
this covering glory for battle-worthy beasts
that hold a king’s carriage, and for us who
canter on old polo ponies, ever concussed
with joy.
