Just off the highway to Rochester， Minnesota，
Twilight1 bounds softly forth2 on the grass.

And the eyes of those two Indian ponies3

Darken with kindness.

They have come gladly out of the willows4

To welcome my friend and me.

We step over the barbed wire into the pasture

Where they have been grazing all day， alone.

They ripple5 tensely， they can hardly contain their happiness

That we have come.

They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.

There is no loneliness like theirs.

At home once more，

They begin munching6 the young tufts of spring in the darkness.

I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms，

For she has walked over to me

And nuzzled my left hand.

She is black and white，

Her mane falls wild on her forehead，

And the light breeze moves me to caress7 her long ear

That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.

Suddenly I realize

That if I stepped out of my body I would break

Into blossom.