In Season

Many jockeyed for her attention in season,

taking her out on dirt paths

for the wide spreads.

With them, she went hard and fast, spittle flying.

But it was over soon,

they left and, still wet,

she was stalled.

Others handled her roughly,

with grips like burlap and whip tongues

that left open wounds

on her hide.

These healed with time.

He saw in her something fierce and wild

and gently led her to

his open palm

until, trusting, she sidled up to him

of her own volition,

nostrils flaring for his mounting,

for the solidness of his hand

on her flank.