you
on a porch
a street called Speedway
you
on a hill
a beard of wheat
and the sky
arches invisible
its dome
blackbirds flecking it
a kaw kaw kaw -ing
you
listening
hearing something
the curve of the horizon
was subtle
but you
watching
saw it bend away
for miles
and for miles
you could see clear across Iowa
you
were watching the stallions
go under it
far and silent
their manes streaming
their sweaty coats
that shined
a long
time
ago