I miss your mess of grey white hair
Your tufted stretch of leather,
over taught warm muscle.
I miss the deep tearing mouthfuls of grass
Chewing like a typewriter cartridge on elastic strings of slobber
Your super tongue, feeling, like a handful of fingers.
You were running for fun
Drumming the soil with half ton hooves
with high kick flicks and snorts.
We saw you as dusk raised a magic moon
and mist lost your numbers in a slow drift swoon.
I miss your eyes, your dark crystal skies
Etched with shadows and lined with long lashes
To keep off the splashes
of shit, sometimes smeared by your friends
A green grey stain, waiting for the rain to restore
Your soft cheeks.
Your black ears cocked and swept
Like folded felt shells
Seaching for warnings,
fore and aft.
When all else is peace
Quiet great masses slumped together
Stretched sacks of stomach, digesting,
And steaming at dawn