Stop! Our tires grind road.
Two roans, a mare and colt, clop
the road, riderless.
Daze-eyed, its mane a tousle,
the colt shows a gashed shoulder,
red, wetly fresh. A stumble
jumping the cruel barbed wire fence.
As we pass, the mare
canters cautiously between
our car and her colt,
its freedom sadly begun.
We stare at the hillside farms.
Who to tell? In morning sun
the farmhouses look asleep.
One door wakes to knocks.
A wrinkled face in housecoat
says, yes, they’re neighbors.
Our concern passes to them.
Late, we drive on. Our mirror
still shows us the mare nuzzling
her colt. It stares, bewildered…