1
Easy
in the bright morning
between the outbuildings
the worker’s laugh
slices the cold air
The boss talks only
to the horses
Two boys drag
their mounts of wool
and leather in the dirt,
whispering They are
not yet students of cruelty
or imitation
They smile
Soon, they will all ride
away, made small
Around the house,
among the poplars:
the horizon, again
A perfect circle