The Horse Latitudes
by Charles Gramlich
 
I hear the wind
as horses racing through the tree tops.
Their hooves are shedding
leaves
 
For a moment,
I think of catching an air stallion,
of lying in wait up an old oak
with a dream lariat
 
He would be as blue as sky,
with a mane like a contrail,
and, oh, he would be fast.
We’d make thunder together
 
But maybe he’s better
running distances with his herd.
We humans have tamed so much,
I’ll let the wild wind be