We stayed in the resort on the
Gila River Reservation that year.
Your birthday trip took us south of
Phoenix in the desert by the
Gila River, now dried up,
Dams leaving only a trickle
For the Akimel O'odham
And the Pee-Posh.
They were still there,
Not going anywhere.
And horses were there too
Running wild in the desert.
We were walking by the corral
Where the wagon horses lipped
Wisps of hay and nuzzled necks.
Two feral stallions galloped in
Drawn by pheromone fragrances
Of the mares inside the fences.
A black and a cream colored stud
Faced off pawing up dust clouds,
Arching their necks, enlarging the
Stud pile with their scent.
You got a photo of the pair
In the gold Sonoran light.
Now I see it daily as I sit and write.