"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

A Gallop.

Hooves trample
sod and soil.
Each muscle ripples
with forward motion.
The sun smiles,
bears down,
at your back.
It glimmers
on hazelnut skin.
The wind
tangles your mane--
and suddenly
all thought
is lost.
There is just
that constant stretch;
the constant
systematic motion
of a gallop.


  1. Very descriptive - I like how you are pulling out details.

  2. Good one JB. Good descriptions. Even when I'm losing money, it's still awesome to watch a horse run.


"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."