Near a shallow, weathered river that meandered to and fro,
Crossing through the hills and valleys to a meadow far below,
Came a restless herd of horses that pulled thunder from the ground,
And allowed the wind to carry them and toss their manes around,
Through high, sweet grass they travelled to reach the river's bend,
To splash aquatic diamonds into flashing dividends.
Across strong backs, all dusty from the flat lands, they rushed past,
Halting to equine composure, taking quenching drinks at last.
The horses grew more gentle inside the aged river's bend,
To rest and graze and drink beyond the restless, timeless wind.
The stallion's broad head became alert, he pawed the river's shore,
Until the night songs beckoned them across the plains once more.
The river could not hold them. The wind was still their friend.
So the river wiated patiently until...they came.....again.