My Parents' Horses Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My parents’ horses feed in the sky: they are big enough
To devour the largest fire in Arizona’s history,
Or to feed from the hand of a god
That knows all about them, and keeps them in his
Petty zoo that I do not believe him, while I sit
On my thinking rock at the end of the bluff and count
The insouciant traffic, so far and so distant
From West Palm Beach: the sky has her own palette
Here I am sure that you do not know- and the fossils
Lay beneath her like chalk-
And when the moon comes out, the horses are yet
There feeding,
But they cannot imagine that the light that they eat
Is not even hers to give.