Dressed to Serve Breakfast

I wrap my heavy robe over the flannel gown, and in my barn boots
trudge down Hwy 574 to feed the horses.
It's nearly 8 a.m., and they've been standing at the fence
eyeing me out with the dogs;
they wonder why room service is so slow.
My loose hair flies in this misty wind.
I cannot wonder what the neighbors think --
they say they love my fortitude.
That is enough, and the horses have been fed.