This poem is taken from PN Review 154, Volume 30 Number 2, November - December 2003.
Daffodils
Something is fettling
in the summer heat
smoothing into the crease
of a muzzle
whittling to the tip
of an ear
a long head raised
underground
looking to leap from
year to year
Something is bridling
at the winter cold
the stamp of a hoof
in the hard earth
the changle of a bit
in the frost
some deep chest drawn
into harness
...
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