That night she dreamt of horses in a field on a high plain where the spring rains had brought up the grass and the wildflowers out of the ground and the flowers ran all blue and yellow far as the eye could see and in the dream she was among the horses running and in the dream she herself could run with the horses and they coursed the young mares and fillies over the plain where their rich bay and their rich chestnut colors shone in the sun and the young colts ran with their dams and trampled down the flowers in a haze of pollen that hung in the sun like powdered gold and they ran she and the horses out along the high mesas where the ground resounded under their running hooves and they flowed and changed and ran and their manes and tails blew like spume and there was nothing else at all in that high world and they moved all of them in a resonance that was like a music among them and they were none of them afraid neither girl nor horse nor colt nor mare and they ran in that resonance which is the world itself and which cannot be spoken but only praised
Eva Evans
July 19, 1994 - April 20, 2024
