Out to pasture

I wonder how the race horse feels
   When she's led out to pasture
       After years of glory.

Does she appreciate the fact
   That there are no more pressures or demands
        Or deadlines,

That before her lies only lazy days
    Waiting for life to happen
       Waiting for something to happen..

While the brain turns to mush.

Or, I wonder if he is tempted to mosey on over to the corner
     And just eat the damn poison ivy?