Torture Can Be Unintentional

In the heat, the horses cluster
In a small patch of aspen shade.

If it were a bright but cold day,
They would turn their sides to the sun.

Shade or sun. Either only helps
So much. The ponies crowd closer,

Likely sharing some of the heat
Each one of them’s trying to shed.

Too much of life is shaped by this
Inability to center,

These constantly imperfect shifts
Between shade and sun. Nothing’s left

Undisturbed by the imbalance,
The constant imbalance, shifting

From sun to shade, shade to sun,
Too little, too much, either one.