This next poem is entitled "Onlooker."
"A whole hour sitting in my car I've
watched the horses through the barbed wire.
They stand so still and I watching
them feed on their quiet.
In pairs confessional, their bodies minding the flies,
they listen with their tails each silent face so close
it almost hurts to watch.
The outside, the sun raises the settling welts
on the frame of the new tractor.
Moist oats golden in the dark furrows.
Why must we put everything into words?
Only the living can tell.
Listen, the wind is coming off the mountains, their blue peaks
half hidden by snow, I shiver and roll up my window."