Have I even seen one
since watching a herd
of the miniature Icelandic breed
break into fifth gear—
the flying pace—
alongside the winding Ring Road?

Thick waterfall manes + tails
flowing in the wind.

I pause to imagine their dark
silhouettes against a backdrop
of Northern Lights.
I saw them both:
the horses + the lights.
Just not together.

I wait for the great blue ones
to wade + fish
in the Loring Park pond again.
Despite the surface ice,
the ducks have returned.
It will snow again. Animals adapt.

Divide the picture
in half diagonally.

Dare to put the one with wings
in the wedge beneath.
I want to fly again. Head east.
Get a bird’s eye view
wide + long enough to capture all
of New York City’s bridges in one breath.

Head west. I ran across
the Golden Gate Bridge once,
looking for Easter bonnets
in the fog. Sobriety
out of reach
for another year or so.

I never found
your stolen Pegasus.

Would not drown it
in a bucket of salt water
if I did. Did you check
the sky one more time?
On this vernal equinox
after the sun sets so quickly.

Equal parts street pounder + cloud
counter, she may not want to be recovered.