Because of her immaculate pants
I forgot that sunshine stalks
the verge of woods, the fenceline.
She rode past thoughtless of me,
the horse massive, with steel shoes
rattling on the road
near my little home: a tent
pitched against blue trees
that seemed unusual in the usual ways
and a lost waterway, easing
between an unused railroad spur
and the edge of creation: rusted steel
frames left by an ient fire, a vehicle
of no possible use anymore,
and her pants, undamaged
by the bus, the mountain road,
the old snow lying nearby.