Stealing Firewood on a Snowy Evening

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I thought I could
Just chop some wood.
No one was near,
So that was good.

My horse’s ear
Flickered with fear —
Or maybe chill,
It wasn’t clear;

She waited till
She’d had her fill
Of polar air
There on that hill;

And then my mare
Shot me a glare
And left me there
And left me there.

 

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