I walk into the midst
of mist and darkness
for this pre-dawn feeding.
Stirred by an unseasonable warmth,
the smell of the horse lot
drifts toward the house,
even in the absence of breeze.
Leafless limbs show in soft silhouette
against the hazy glow
of farmhouse lights from across the creek,
leach into the gray of fog.
Hooves soundless against the fresh thaw,
the horses stir slowly in the stillness.
As they crunch the mix
of beet pellets and sweet feed,
I carry flakes of alfalfa, timothy and brome,
dump them into the rack.
Latching the door of the barn,
I look back toward the house,
see the bright showing through the glass
of the kitchen window.
It is good to know the sight of home,
good to keep its glowing firmly in heart
when we have to walk
through the midst of mist and darkness.