When the barn doors are opened
On a blinding bright frosted morning,
The inner darkness is disrupted with a beam of sunlight,
Exposing an equine escapee.

His stall door stands ajar,  the vacancy light turned on,
He meanders the black of the unlit barn aisle
Munching his hay bale breakfast, lunch, and dinner
All of which lies strewn and ruined at his feet.

Not only did he escape his locked door
But he has chosen to leave poop piles
On every horses’ breakfast, lunch,  and dinner
As they futilely watch from behind their latched stall doors.

He has had the run of the place all night.
Obvious from his ubiquitous hoof tracks
The overturned buckets, trampled halters, tangled baling twine,
Twisted hoses, toppled hay bales and general chaos.

At least he didn’t climb up and start the tractor
Or eat the cat food or open the grain barrel
Or chew a saddle or two, or rip horse blankets apart,
But I’m sure he considered trying.

His head goes up as the sunlight highlights his nocturnal escapade,
I’m catching him red-hoofed yet boldly nonchalant, proclaiming innocence.
Like a child asking for milk to go with a stolen cookie
He approaches me, begging for a carrot after his all night repast.

I grab a fist full of mane, lead him back to his stall, mercilessly double lock him in.
Surveying the mess left behind, I want to turn around,  shut the barn doors
And banish it back to the cover of darkness,
Hide his sins now illuminated in the light of day.

Instead I remember all the messes I’ve made and abandoned;
So I clean his up
Feed him breakfast
And forgive.