A Solitary Mare

I put myself out to pasture—

left man’s ‘bridal’ and his ‘reigns’ behind,

left the harness and family cart,

left the baggage it held behind.

I jumped the fence to freedom,

went south, then headed west.

Now I saunter, gallup, and trot

with the sea winds of the west.

Through these harvest years I find

more strength than I had before,

more courage, awareness, and beauty

inside than I ever had before.

Sometimes I meet mares and stallions

running faster, smarter, wiser than me.

Then my instinct is to run faster,

smarter, wiser, all that I can be,

‘naying’ as I wish, playing as I wish,

daring to be true and loyal to me.

July, 2001

Flowerpoet