Poetry 365: Floating Floating

If you look closely at my hands
at rest, you will always see
the are slightly cupped, as if
to carry imaginary water
to quench a very real thirst.

If you look quickly out the window
and over the guard rails, you will
see in the distance horses, at rest
amid the patchy grass and palmettos
wishing they were running, like you.

If you look now, there is nothing here.