Landscape with Horse Named Popcorn

The hummingbird hovers over bougainvillea, darting in and out of blossoms as the bride throws her corset among laughter and waving hands. Seeing you, glass in hand, sunlight piercing the punch bowl’s crystal, I remember the horse, an Appaloosa, the white and gray markings like clouds, cumulus, one later on his grave, the 2X4 cross with name above a swell of land that could bring a man to his knees, or make him look up at fumbling shapes, cotton-fumed and slow. I can hear the screeching still.The colt had grabbed a turkey nesting in scrub oak, and prancing, shook it in his mouth as we ran reaching toward black feathers—then the fine spray of blood—until beyond adrenaline we began laughing,