Morning Sleeper

When I drove by the first time, he stood, loose and heavy, head bowed, weight low.  I thought Is he ill? 

When I drove back by, he lay curled in icy grass, a ball of sleeping muscle.

My noticing woke him. 

He eyed me a moment, then strolled over for a nuzzle, and, suddenly, on hearing a companion at the field's low end, took off, galloping.

Now I understand "zero to sixty."