A wild horse sleeps
A wild horse sleeps in a green and silent lane,
dreaming of wind swept sands and white-capped waves and the thunder,
rhythm of hooves
drumming on the shore.
Medusa’s glance has kept you here.
So wild horse sleep; do not fret nor weep.
As lichen marks your time away,
we will stand and watch in awe your stoic grace,
And listen for that first gasp, the shaken mane,
the wide-eyed wonder as you wake.