Suburban Pastures

Blue sky hangs high,
this grass so green;
still this field
is no place for horses.
A pasture wrapped tight
with picket fence borders,
the interstate
through its heart
like headwaters.
On four legs they stand
with their teeth
in their mouths,
but they still look
as noble as ever.
Yet you'll never believe
what you see
in this place;
for this field
is no place for horses.