the last farrier
in the combustion era
shoeing the mares
out of senseless
sensibility
striking
the orange metal
shaping the horseshoe
with hammer and tongs
he works
mechanically
rote muscle memory
he shares more
in common
with the automobiles
than the people
that drive them

after a long day
at the forge
he splashes cool water
across heat
reddened skin
as the cars putter
down
the gravel road
the horses
munching hay
indifferent
to the new
means of transportation
or the end
of an age
unaware they have become
the standard
for the vehicles
that put them all
out of work