--about 1943, rural Newcastle, California
A sharp frost will come before morning.
The two draft horses breathe lungsful of mist
onto each other’s flanks.
Above them, the oak trees arch up and out.
Barely nightfall, the sky stretches
each oak limb to its tip.
The moon rises, and shadows of bare branches
fall upon the two white horses,
the feed boxes, and the corral.
Out of the north, out of the shadows
a snowy owl thrusts its great white wings down,
just clear of the metal corral gate
and disappears into the pear orchard.
The horses do not stir.