Driving past Winona Farm
Nothing was changed, really.
The long placid pasture sprawled in the sun.
Horses studded the far slope,
heads down, cropping the wasted offering of autumn time,
all still in the moments of my passing.
A tableau in the periphery on all those other days,
but yesterday I turned and looked far, saw more.
Yesterday I came to my senses.
In those long moments,
I was a lover of horses.
Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2015 All rights reserved.