i have a horse

i have a horse,
she tells me, i ride
it on sundays
if the weather's good.
it's a Morgan.
she's in her
boots.
knee high, greyed
with dried mud.
her riding pants
are tight.
she slaps the crop in her
hand against her thigh,
adjusts her black
rimmed cap.
she smells of oats
and hay,
of a barn
full of cats
and other horses.
i have a horse,
she says, waiting for
me to say,
that's great, what
a wonderful thing.
she's still waiting.