Let me tell you about my red horse.
She pins her ears, gesturing bold dominance.
But her eyes are unchanged as always,
soft and loving.
And she leans forward sweetly, muzzle extended
to touch my hands and mug a treat.
Oh, sometimes she will pin her ears and toss her head briskly.
She likes to hear the cross-ties clatter,
as she imititates an irritation she does not feel.
Her eyes glow with pleasure.
She wants company and will not drive love away.
At those moments, I laugh and mock
her angry ears.
Her false bravado, in those pinned ears, always delights me.
Why, she can't even be bothered to pin them
properly tight.
She's like a mardi gras reveler, lifting her mask lightly,
carelessly, as she leans toward
love and conviviality.
Let me tell you about my red horse.
She pins her ears and looks on with love.