A Reverie
Sunset glares through a slit in the clouds;
cool air descends with childhood memories
of horses and rain in Willcox.
Horses knew things.
They knew more about wind, rain, and trouble
than any of the rest of us.
They helped me to many places
that were kindred to my nature,
to escape the oppressing forces,
to wander in the dreams of silent places
where kindness flourished.
There were no maps for any of that,
but we may have known each other
before time had its measure.
It’s windy this evening on the borderland,
and rain approaches from the southeast.
I opened a lovely Malbec to sip slowly
and relax while the storm treked across
a darkly veiled sky. Its mesmerizing fragrance
mingled with the aroma of virga that fell
from clouds of dreams and memories.
The horses knew about all that.
Sometimes we knew.
Look now.
Rain is close by.
From: A Preface to the Universe: Love, Nature,
& The Mysteries Within
Unpub. MS p. 32
