Spotted Pony

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The air was clear and fall crisp.
And, from my car window
I looked out at a vacant coral,
bitten by the teeth of poverty.

in the dirty grass, a spotted horse
with a mane like a dream of salt
ate dried oak leaves off the ground.
His color was honey, amber, fire.

A twitch of an ear,
a snort,
morning sun at its peak...
perfect contentment.