Early,
I learned to yell with horses,
assert my stubborn will with weight
and quiet hands-
neigh.
Nay-
I remember not getting anywhere
faster than a cheetah, as
likewise, the robin flees before the race
we all jump the gun-alert and
early.
A wild child-yet unbroke
and the mustang duo, run like there is no
Lands End-
Let us pretend too,
hills only roll gently
circling round the plain...
Flowers sway and manes fly,
entangling tendrils and thrills-
with that type of wind
that blows her name-Gale
fast and hard.
I have found where thunder settles
down and grazes.
And did I ride bareback-
harness-less-Yes.
I confess,
I stole many horses
with my bare hands
rhetorically.
A bit and bridle, only
belong here,
reined in poetry
as this is memory
Now
ad Again.
I think of signs,
like lightening
and stalled horses
and understand
plain screams,
and freedom.
Photo By National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior. Katie Theule, photographer [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
