Nine months later,
I saw mist
clearing
and above
on a mountainside
a black horse
running.

At a year,
I order
a horse
hitched to a carriage
for a journey
and fetch
the gear.

Soon, I
stride
into a stable
see a horse being saddled
for a race, but not yet
ready to ride.

Over a year
since you died,
I dream-spied a girl
in a white dress
on a white horse;
I catch
her eye.