where are you looking from where you
stand with the sun on your flanks and
the fingers of your beloved woven through
your mane...
is there a place beyond the horizon that
calls to you, or do you just love the way
the pasture dips and rises to meet the sky
what is in the wind...
is there a scent inviting you to dance
along a distant ridge, to prance and leap,
to forge streams and soar over fallen
lodgepole pines scattered below an
avalanche chute
is there a girl with flazen hair that
urges you to fly...and remember days of
meadows filled with wildflowers...
what do you see beyond....
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