Some Horses

Some horses wandered
back and forth unhindered,
across a farmers field
under pylons chained.

Nothing much else happened
when the train stopped
on the outskirts of Minehead,
bar the horses being intrigued
by the presence of a weed
beside their lush field.

Most passengers just read
while the horses advanced,
the chance to see them spurned,
the printed word prefered
to the real world,
visible if they turned.

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