Trick Riders

There is nothing, nothing, nothing two women cannot do before noon.

Anonymous

That first afternoon of Vermont sun anud blue meadow sky
a frisking of cumulus     winds of August trampling the hilltop     we balanced
our bodies on the loping air     lay into ravishing the blades of grass

Here in October along the San Francisco Bay     a fog hovers all morning but so thin
the blue atmosphere     the outstretched boughs of eucalyptus mingling atop
the hill     could emerge     could grow visible:     only a matter of seconds.

the right breeze     exact breath     your hands on my back
steadying me     Our future lingers     obscured but not far away     Let's make
the quick work of articulation     Already we have a language of desire

but between words we need dust     each leaf and jot of ground
a determined wind     glad to meet you     These delicate depictions
this acquiring of definite forms     will require our whole courage—

Drop the reins     Hoist me up     Set your feet
where the muscles move     You and I can climb the wind
a trick horse already knifing out the gate

Like the ripple of water from a tipped pitcher     blade pressing butter into its melt—
stretch out your arms—                    I'm here      I dare you
our clarity     For this the years     working the living

breath     jogging the days     solitudes' honed timings     All to mount this cantering
moment:     silver splitting down a hillside     juts and folds revealed     flash of sun—
upshifted vapors twist away     as     balancing we stand at full gallop