When I see a child sitting on a horse, I believe
for a moment they are the same animal.
Like owls sleeping in larch trees.
Like geese resting between cattails.
I believe this more if the child
isn’t wearing a shirt.
Like hummingbirds sipping cardinal flowers.
Like dragonflies drying wings on laurel.
If they cross a river, the child and horse
become even closer, a single wet body.
Like bees trembling spicebush.
Like lacewings climbing moss.
Out of the river, water drips down
the child’s legs and over the horse’s stomach.
River water becomes child’s water.
Child’s water becomes horse’s water.
Water must return to earth.
Like all children and their horses.