Just off the highway to Rochester， Minnesota，

    Twilight¹ bounds softly forth² on the grass.

    And the eyes of those two Indian ponies³

    Darken with kindness.

    They have come gladly out of the willows⁴

    To welcome my friend and me.

    We step over the barbed wire into the pasture

    Where they have been grazing all day， alone.

    They ripple⁵ tensely， they can hardly contain their happiness

    That 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 munching⁶ 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 me

    And nuzzled my left hand.

    She is black and white，

    Her mane falls wild on her forehead，

    And the light breeze moves me to caress⁷ her long ear

    That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.

    Suddenly I realize

    That if I stepped out of my body I would break

    Into blossom.

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