“In truth,” she said,
“I live too far away from horses,
and I need to see the look in their eyes
to predict the weather.”
I try to tell her that
there is a way to do this
by looking at the direction of the leaves
or the color of the sky at sunset
but it is like she cannot hear me.
She continues, “Yes, it is only when I look at myself,
reflected in the shiny darkness of a horses eye
that I know what kind of day it will be.”
I wish I had such reliable methods
for telling what kind of day I was going to have.
The only way I can tell
is if I remember these conversations
from my dreams.
blue sky infinite 