WILD HORSESShe sees horses in the streets, tearing down the tarmac, silvery manes of flowing watertwisting in the wind's hands. Pale white streaks of ghostsleaving translucent trails of light, black eyes glistening, nostrilsflared, silent in their insistency. They say the fields are full ofbodies, buried during the war, but all she can see are the horses, hooves pounding the ground. Beautiful wild beasts racingwithout a care in the world, unreflected in windows.
How they run.(August 18, 2022)
WILD HORSESShe sees horses in the streets, tearing down the tarmac, silvery manes of flowing watertwisting in the wind's hands. Pale white streaks of ghostsleaving translucent trails of light, black eyes glistening, nostrilsflared, silent in their insistency. They say the fields are full ofbodies, buried during the war, but all she can see are the horses, hooves pounding the ground. Beautiful wild beasts racingwithout a care in the world, unreflected in windows.
How they run.(August 18, 2022)