A doe fawned in the stallion paddock.
He wasn’t there when it happened,
munching on sweet feed from his
adorned stable block.

His groom, who knew his every quirk
clipped the gold chain he didn’t need,
around his square jaw and walked
quietly beside him to the green painted gate.

They navigated the obstacle smoothly,
as they had for fifteen years.
They played the game of chicken,
as the had for fifteen years, until

The gold chain slid from his halter and
he bolted on age’d legs.
a colt for just a moment, until
from the grass, a flush of color catapults

the smallest limbs to standing.
now nostrils are flared
and ears are pricked to attention
and the mass of a stallion is

sidling up to the earthy freshness of a fawn.
his head lowered to take in the sight,
and he is capable of grand gentleness
with a creature who benefits him none.

and he reminds us, though one is
built for strength and unpredictability
and maybe his forebears would’ve
chose otherwise, he can be kind.