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The hobbled horses cough
At the first slant of light
Stamping iron-cold ice
From shoes tired of the night
Broken coals collapse
Brittle shadows disappear
The fine fear sits familiar
With two horns or ten
Calling morning to dark's creatures
And throwing salt upon the fire
Blinking twice at horizon's eyebrow
Singing a scratchy song
Folding forks and cups together
Kicking ashes down the wind
Share out the weight and walk
Loneliness reigns again
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