Holly Day
Horse
March puts us in the home stretch to spring, and it takes everything I have to not go outside and check beneath the snow to see if I can see the tiny points of crocus, tulips, and daffodils poking through the frozen soil. So instead of going outside to destroy these early days of a garden reborn, I am contenting myself today with sitting at my desk, diligently working away, one eye straying often to the window by my desk to watch rabbits and squirrels chase each other across the yard, sparrows and cardinals flicking empty seed hulls out of the bird feeder.
she smells me near, turns
comes to the fence and
lowers her head. I hand her the apple
I've carried all day
just waiting for this moment.
in my dreams
the fence is gone
the houses are gone
the town is gone
we run unencumbered over fields of wildflowers
stopping only to eat, to drink, to sleep
the telephone calls me back to reality
I pat her smooth muzzle, rub my cheek against hers
the weight of my longing makes my breath stick
pulling at me as I head back inside
Holly Day is a housewife and mother of two living in Minneapolis, Minnesota who teaches needlepoint classes in the Minneapolis school district. Her poetry has recently appeared in The Worcester Review, Broken Pencil, and Slipstream, and she is the recipient of the 2011 Sam Ragan Poetry Prize from Barton College. Her most recent published book is Notenlesen für Dummies Das Pocketbuch, while her novel, The Trouble With Clare, is due out from Hydra Publications in 2013.