False Spring by Emily W. Pease

As when the mare feels a foal within
and her milk flows, false hope. As when
she shifts in her stall, phantom hooves
kicking in an imagined trot. As when
she’s hitched to a plow at dawn, begins
carving frozen ground. Foal-less, still
she imagines spring. As when I heard
the word expecting. Sun so electric,
I shielded my eyes. I dreamed many
names. For weeks I waited to hear
your rushing heart. As when the mare
sleeps to the sound of a silent barn.

— from Juniper Volume 6, Issue 2