clip clop horse down soft dirt road
shoes touch powder, flyaway particles
like pressed powder for a lady's face.
but what kind of lady chooses dry mud
to put on her face with a fluffed pad,
those same hoof-specks catching in her hair
and staying there for the remainder of the day,
falling to rest on her pillow, then threatened under morning showers
that press them all the more violently
than the horse did the day before?