By Kalicia Pivirotto
To make a song.
To stride over pastures and hills made green with rain,
to pass horses,
to have stopped for the sick,
lay a hand on the hot dry flank.
To turn and find only air by your side
where you had imagined breath.
Air too becomes a companion, a language,
words spoken and answered within the confine of these hills.
To approach the horse,
circle with a careful hand until you reach the long face,
look into horse eyes.
Human muscle and horse muscle.