If Horses Were Wishes

My spirit sips the pinks
and oh, the purples; my spirit
gets a taste. then gulps the colors.
How can Bougainvillea be so
slaking?
I halt my walk to drink, and deeply.
Has a morning ever gleamed like this?
Have I never paused
to draw the nourishment?
Lake Chapala gently rocking.
Enlightened Egrets fishing near the shore.
An arrow of Pelicans,
great white wings with coal black tips.
Songs of spring
from Kiskadee and Sparrow.
Two boats, blue, and bobbing.

And there, Something
large and alive in the grasses,
spaced along the edge of the lake—
Horses!
Four of them.
Standing like wishes
waiting,
waiting for my
imagination.
I face each direction slowly,
and wish the world well again.

©Susa Silvermarie 2020