The farrier comes and he talks about North Korea, nuclear bombs,
and a possible war with China that’s blowing around on the news.
He’s holding the hooves of the horses,
the big black draft leans his weight onto him.
We’re talking at least 150lbs of horse haunch
that the farrier supports with his two tattooed arms
while he trims a quarter inch of dead material from the base of the hoof.
The farrier complains he’s getting old but I see he can still hold his own here,
even with these massive animals, even in the middle of what we fear may be
World War Three.
It does not seem like an illusion anymore, this war.
It is something real and far on the horizon,
like an approaching jeep on a desert highway.
Heat waves rising up from pavement, blend with engine exhaust,
but the sound of acceleration cannot be mistaken.
Behind the barn, I can hear the dog
gnawing on the cast-off shards of hoof walls.
***Creds for the art included go to a wonderful library patron who collaged with me last Friday, age 8! Words in the collage are by Rumi.