COMMON GROUND

Every day begins in the dark,
while horses wait for a sign
of movement, another awakening

to fluffy alfalfa, or the sound
of diesel arriving, the augur
of aluminum heartbeats under saddle,

under hooves of nervous and eager
friends dancing in a gooseneck drum.
Certain things become ingrained

in the psyche, incorporated
conclusions that make us shy
and hard to halter, but we

will give-in, sign and notarize
another day’s dark beginnings
on this common ground.

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