Still

standing it persists as a

staying in clusters, munching at grass as

a happy whinnying that causes tails to swish: nothing
exceptional, it could be said,
until –

the farmer with the forage bin on his back (‘giddy-up’)
turns up, recognised already by every horse at a distance
as a
forerunner of what every horse’s heart is longing

for: end of period working at a trot; away with the concentrates, 

                                                     ‘luscious farting on sorrel and clover’?