Animal poems - Wild Horse
... proud, wild, spirited
Rolling green hills, tumbling rambunctiously from one horizon to the opposite,
Wide open plains, scattered with sporadic patches of lush trees.
If the mountains could talk, would they echo of your passage,
You feel the call of open space, and you run.
You run with the passion of one thousand torrential rapids after hard winter rains,
Pulsing down the mountain, and roaring through canyonous veins cut deep into the earth.
The same veins on the landscape, pump blood through your muscular body, millimeters from your sheen skin, as you stride.
Your flowing mane is blast with rippling glory in the wind, you run.
You run with a single purpose of freedom,
The faster you gallop, the more you lose yourself to the hills.
Any thoughts, fears and dreams fade into nothing,
All that remains in you is your core primal instinct, you run.
You run across the rolling green hills, the plains, the deserts, and every horizon thrown before you,
You run for the addiction you have to your mind absorbed in adrenalin.
Your rock hardened hooves crash violently into the earth, each impact like a clap of thunder, kicking up the dirt of your salvation.
Only when exhausted will you finally stop and ponder on where you are going, and the distant yet frightening idea of settling down in one place for longer than one night.
Until such a day the horizon ends, every mountain, every rock and every tree shouts a singular message to you.
Run you beautiful creature.
Run as you love - wild and free.
Run like the wind.
-- by Andrew Noske