MUDTIME IN CRAFTSBURY
They look at us with calm.
Inquiring eyes, Vermont
Draft horse sculptures in barnyards,
Carved of weatherproof cedar,
Shoes as big as platters,
Pressing meshed Budweiser
Circles into a mash
Of mud, manure and chaff
Misted with fertile steam,
Essence of rural spring,
While killdeer dart and halt,
Concealed by tawny stalks,
Crying “I’m here! I’m here!”
Beside the talkative creek,
And apple-breasted thrushes
Cluster on barren branches,
Alert for worms that slither
Through warm lubricious earth.
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