i would watch them for longer, if i could.
if life were long enough just to stand
at the edge of a fence at the end of the day.
when the sun is sliding toward the crest of that hill
and frogs begin humming their songs in the pond ---
there are no more manmade sounds.
i would watch the darkening gleam of their backs
in the fading light which turns white into pink and orange,
black into purple, brown into red.
when the smell of sweet hay bursts into my nostrils
i will be truly content to hear jaws move methodically,
hooves press softly into the spring's earth.
tails swish to reach buzzing flies,
and over the hill, coyotes cry, they howl
for their young to draw near, to curl golden warm bodies into dens.
these horses will gather to eat their hay;
they don't even know their own perfect grace.
perhaps life is long enough after all, for this:
a quiet song at the end of the day.