Bolts out of the tunnel—
her expression crossed
between danger and delight, her black
hat, habit, and jodhpurs
stark against the muted gray-white of the bay
stallion plunging down the horse path;   
the trees along the reservoir
crouched and whispering
amidst the wind-blown cinders and leaf-particles—
even if we were planted here together
we can still converse;

                        ...

but even now, as fold on fold of cloud
dims the metallic prisms
of the chain-link fence I lean against,
the bay surges through again, his neck
stretched further out than before,
as she lets go of the reins and leans far—
far forward to grip his mane.