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.