Horseshoes

When men labored hard
working the land with animals,
breaking ground and mending breaks,
night was for sleeping,
Sunday afternoon a dispensation
from toil and repair;

on those quiet days
when there had been enough work,
they'd drive a stake in the ground
and toss the iron shoes
of their horses in a ritual game
intended with no meaning
except the skill and boyish excitement
of seeing what was forged for labor
sail high, almost weightless
through the afternoon sky
to clang against a metal stake,
thud on dry sand,
showing the iron they wore
as surely as their horses
could be thrown off
if they chose;

they kept their long furrows straight
by sharpening this edge of their will
tossed out and sailing
over an afternoon of quiet laughter,
knowing they would take up
their work again next morning,
they and their horses,
firmly buckled down
and harnessed
with leather and iron
to the land
and their long toil.