The farm could stay,
but when Lehman emptied its offices
late afternoon that Tuesday
treasure and all
the horses had to go
They were led to water
walked up the plank
dispatched on yachts
bereft of mortgage
the Atlantic swallowed whole
Back in Woodstock
the locked land
paddocks pristine
ready for residents
Snow is growing in fossil hoof prints
stables painted red
open for business
standing silent
in groves of gray ash