Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota, Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass. And the eyes of those two Indian poniesDarken with kindness. They have come gladly out of the willowsTo welcome my friend and me. We step over the barbed wire into the pastureWhere they have been grazing all day, alone. They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happinessThat we have come. They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other. There is no loneliness like theirs. At home once more, They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms, For she has walked over to meAnd nuzzled my left hand. She is black and white, Her mane falls wild on her forehead, And the light breeze moves me to caress her long earThat is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist. Suddenly I realizeThat if I stepped out of my body I would breakInto blossom.