Plow Horse Woman
A plow horse woman without ribbons or accolades
outworking the glittering high-stepping
show horse parade.
She'll never get promotion; she doesn't play their game,
She just puts in an honest forty- eight
lays another callus on the day.
You'll never see cherries on her knees.
From climbing slippery corporate ladders.
There's no aces up her tattered sleeve.
Her conscience is free from clutter and clatter.
Year after year she mans the boats and rows.
Making "the man"-another pot of gold.
Her sparkling soul is made of blood and sweat.
Not from stabbing flanks or tossing stones.
In the fading season when all crops are in.
She's earned that dapple of golden shade.
The show horses are parading plastic ribbons.
While wiping her blood from their muzzles
without a bit of guilt or a hint of shame.
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