Kinds of Honey

A white horse

touches his nose

to my shoulder

.

and gives a huff

warm through flannel.

.

I hold out a palm

full of oats. Shuff, shuff.

Softness and skin.

.

Light sifts through his

mane, filters onto my face.

We are quiet, bowing

.

under a close blue sky,

so present to ourselves,

and this gentle being.