Some mornings when the mountain
was stubbled with clouds, we saw him
grazing where we knew no horses
had lived for years. Motionless

but for the earthly pull of grass torn
one mouthful at a time. Mortal-looking:
Would a god descend only to eat?
We debated, then fought. This god

was no help, alone in his meadow.
We tried to get his attention.
We fired shots into the air.
We broke all the trees around us.