Turnout

The sweet aroma of horse and hay in half-light:
barn cat spats, the clatter and scraping of rakes
mucking stalls, scoops coming from the grain bin
water hoses snaking
up and down the barn aisle.

This is a discipline for health,
a way to keep daily practice
of fresh air, sunshine, and amble.
It starts with the murmur of
walk-on, permission to pass through
stall doors swung wide, hooves clop-clopping along
cement then stepping out
quickening pace through the gravel barnyard.

Up the hill, beyond
hot electric fence, free from halters
they kick heels, thrilled to frisk and run together
or deftly, quietly, drop knees for a good roll in the mud.
Past killdeer song and geese resting
they will munch grass, flick flies, and
if need be, rear and nip
just to sort the order out.