THE PHANTOM’S LURE
His four feet pound the thirsty dirt that paints the fence posts gray.
The wind weaves fingers pulling through his mane and tail’s display.
The phantom that he’s racing lives within his feral mind,
while teasing thoughts of freedom flicker, fade, then fall behind.
What dredged this distant dream of open range that has no gates
and fills his belly with the fire that sparks and motivates
his actions like a wild stallion flaunting fearlessness?
This craving for a life untamed is all he will possess.
His captive body cramped by the corral betrays his ache
to run unfettered, loose, untouched like moonlight’s glow, to shake
the bonds that separate him from his distant past.
Equus caballus swings his restless head as if to cast
himself back through to early years when horses all ran free.
Their bands ran with the elk and bison nursed by liberty.
The endless prairie fed them while their numbers gained and grew.
They filled the west with thunder racing towards a rendezvous
with man and fate that shaped their world and set the modern stage.
Does this horse know his brothers still run free through desert sage?
The barriers and fences work to keep his dreams repressed.
Though conquered, tamed and tethered, he’s an icon of the west.