When you leave town full of things to outrun,
for peace of the countryside and there, in the shadows,
park power of many and mount power of one,
let the stallion carry you through trails in the meadows.

When light breeze of summer touches your features
and all of your senses drink up the floods
of emotions you get from these beautiful creatures,
with no words spoken, just hooves´ quiet thuds.

The noise in your head transforms into music,
a breathtaking symphony calming your soul,
your creative side connects with its muses,
the moment of present just makes you feel whole.

Riding this horse past oblivion

feeling wind shout past

sharp shoulder blades

long hair whipping strong

grinding both thighs

into these browning flanks.

This horse is built from

sticky pecan sugar

such spice sprinkled

and dusted whilst the rider

flits past us stream like

arrow fringes near the cusp

all harrowing and musky.

Horse of caramel and nuts

sticking together like childish

tar painted gold and copper

colors shining past in rounded

muscles as the horse pushes

through the gulch he glances down at us with coal inlaid eyes as rough as sandpaper against raw wood

trying not to get caught up

in sliced splinters but careful now

before the horse of brown mud

runs us down trampling us to

wet ****** pulp so wait until

he has settled down to sleep

and then we can climb the mountains by escaping his

cramped cave of dreams

which only reveals how tricky

slips can be.