Clearing out weeds and storm-blown

Twigs and leaves that seem somehow

To know just where the property line is

And dig in just on my side of it, then

Walking the fence line, nailing up again

The lower loose rails where the stallion

Has kicked them, replacing the top ones

Where he has gnawed them to splinters,

The mineral salt block he mostly ignores,

The stallion pawing the pasture now,

Kicking the dirt and digging in, watching

Me, drawing the line he dares me to cross.