Outer Banks: A Note

One of the horses has a wounded leg.
It doesn’t seem to mind, though the skin shines
With infection. I want to bind it, but hold back. 
A sweet plover-nurse pecks around its hoofsteps.
Do they know they’re locked in a shrinking box?
They come and go without regard for me.

I visited the lighthouse at Currituck.
From the top deck, I see the water
Collecting at its base not long from now
And the horses swimming toward it, 
Because it’s the only thing in view for miles,
A rocket that will never launch to some new
Safe harbor, the old one now buried at sea.