THIS PLACE WHERE I AM HAPPY

The dark spreads its palm

From nowhere to nowhere,

Outside, the frozen crust

Of the barnyard spangles

Under the arclight. Snow

Captions fences neatly.

Each footprint jails a shadow.

The horses stamp in their straw,

Muzzles a penumbra

Of crystal, breath white balloons

In which no language hovers.

Their droppings golden stones,

Eyes of dreamy amber. The cinder block walls

Sparkle as cold bites through

Sinking red and congealed

In the window-hung bulb.

The black wind hurts my face

As I trudge houseward tugging the metal pail

That dances empty from its bail.

Nothing cries from rooftops

Or circles out of trees.

Cats huddle in the loft

Frostnipped ears rounding

To the horses’ even breaths

And the shift of massive haunches.

I halt, set down the pail

In a white expanse that is perfect

As long as I do not move.

South Dakota Review