Wild horses
By Grannyrosie
WILD HORSES Horses, wild horses, galloping free, Through the heath on the sand hills below. Up through the gullies, and on to the beach, Wildly, in abandon, their matted manes flow.. Whinnying, snorting, scenting the air, Majestically racing, prancing with pride. Mare with their young, peering nervously, Then away, once again, on the ride. At the edge of the beach, just out of reach, Of the waves and the breakers that roar, Prancing and dancing, in the wet sand, Lead stallion wide eyed, with unspoken command. Into the water, gracious sleek beasts, Rolling, cleansing the dust of the track. A snort of alarm, once again they’re all off, Fast, fleet, wary of danger, but never look back. Over the sand hills, into the dense scrub, Dodging potholes and stumps in their stride. Perilous steep climb to the top of the hill, Galloping, galloping, galloping still. Down to the valley, the clearing below, Sweet meadow grasses beckons them halt. Lathered and weary, settle down to eat, Regal beauty and grace, noble beast without fault Written December 13th, 2001 © on Dec 13 2001 11:01 AM PST, Patricia Rosenberg 0 • 10
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"WILD HORSES..."