On a Windy Day

The Horse Latitudes


I hear the wind
as horses racing through the tree tops.
Their hooves are shedding
leaves


For a moment,
I think of catching an air stallion,
of lying in wait up an old oak
with a dream lariat


He would be as blue as sky,
with a mane like a contrail,
and, oh, he would be fast.
We’d make thunder together


But maybe he’s better
running distances with his herd.
We humans have tamed so much.
Let the wild wind be

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