Horse In The Pasture Poem by Jack Galmitz

The horse in the pasture
is muscled that way
its distinction
from the yellowing hay
and the flies
it swishes away
and me looking
puny and poorly made
up at its godly face.

Those eyes have a way
of looking sideways
and straight away
sad as I've been in my worst days.
Seductive into the deep
Of ways and the holes of shapes.
In the embers
of the day settling its score
it is cast iron
that defies the indefinite
mountains their lack of audition and
denouement.

When the furnace cools
and it's darker than ash
you will see the appalling
currents as it gallops past
and be struck by movement
without motion
the movement of the
drifting sky mackerels
a million times