The Spotted Colt
It was the heat that drove his lightning kicks.
When he leapt the gate his shoes struck sparks.
His dust
hung over the long track
like a spirit.
The runaway spun our afternoon about
to wake a light wind
who showed her slim belly by turning up the leaves.
High summer,
mother of June's blue hummingbird,
ready me for want of flight.
(from High Country Solitudes, 1997)
