Beneath the waning gibbous moon
when two weeks marked you gone,
the horse stood in the pasture bare
at first glance all alone.
Before the gap of curtains closed,
a second set of eyes
peered from nigh the horse’s fetlock
both still of fear or cries.
There’s anger when someone passes,
but even more, there’s love
and these two sitting side by side
unite the vulture and dove.
We pray for God to give,
then he does but can take it away;
yet I think it untrue that goodness leaves
when things aren’t meant to stay.