Hour #5, Prompt #6


It’s an ordinary day. I’m driving
my morning’s scheduled routine, when
thundering across the near horizon I hear,
before seeing, a herd of wild mustangs,
hundreds of them

spilling in round-rumped abandon
through meadow and crossing ahead—
a mingling of manes, arced tails a blur
of exhilaration – nobly

proclaiming with whited eyes
their surprise at this galloped
layering of worlds, pulsing forward|

the rumbling waves tumble now
through open window,
sweat scented freedom compelling
and feral, calling me distant,
deep and wild.

The rhythm resolves as the
herd hurries on. I return to my day,
to what is planned
and not.


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