He emptied his long legs from the old Dodge truck.
Brushed off some dust and wiped his sweaty brow,
Fired up his forge, hauled out his tools,
And readied himself for the task at hand.
She came out the door of her house in a flurry,
Grabbed a halter and said, “Sorry I’m late.”
He tipped his hat, said, “It’s okay, ma‘am”,
And watched her head out to the pasture.
Leaning on the fender, he was happy for the rest,
He watched as she swung effortlessly to bestride the grey.
The two galloped in as one, his mane and her hair flowed together,
Her breasts lifted and fell with the three-beat gait of his stride.
He was there to shoe this horse,
But right here, right now,
He could see himself with her,
The two swaying to the rhythm of love.
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