August at Dusk
The sun has dropped below Sterling Mountain,
freeing for the brief night hours the pasture
of endless summer sun’s incessant beating heat.
In relief the grasses breathe out vapors.
In the rising, warm air stream,
like a kind thought before a friend speaks,
we sense in the night a benign presence
before their huge, dark bodies take shape.
Our two mares, expecting gentle hands,
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