by Janis Clark
Inside the barn
a horse waits for the crunch of boots
on snowy cobbles,
listens for the scrape
of metal doors across runners,
grown stiff with rust and time.
Breath freezes in still air.
Ice has covered the water buckets
and the lights are still off in the farmhouse.
The horse is expectant, mindful of routine
that hasn’t changed for fifteen years
but will today.