for Bob Sweeten
Smooth sorrel coat like autumn leaf, phalanx
of teeth nipping grass blades, the two year old
seems at ease in sunny field as this lank-
legged lump of snow-flecked tan trots out, bold
and naïve as a green recruit, falling
in chow line next to the cool, muscled colt.
Then, as if feeling some distant calling,
forearms and gaskins flex like bowstrings, bolt
the red beauty toward the near rise, over
and out of sight. Did centuries of genes
sense Arabian desert wind? Lovers
rolling in a Shropshire marsh? It must mean
nil to this hungry fawn, ears large as head.
It turns white tail to where thoroughbred fled.
Roger Armbrust
November 9, 2007
