The Amish farmer's horse looks across the fence
At her old pony, grown fat and foundered,
Eating hay and grain,
Combed and curried and fed carrots by two generations
The Amish farmer's horse, gray around his muzzle,
Still daily pulls the buggy into town
Or drags the sleigh when snow is on the ground.
In spring he's hitched to pull the winter-risen rocks
Out of the field
So the Belgian team can plow.
And, as she drinks her coffee and watches him watch her pony,
She wonders if the Amish farmer's horse is Amish, too.