A Lamentation For When We Were Wild

Plodding across the winter pasture
Morning thick with cold, encompassing fog
Today’s field, one of near-remembrance
A memory I can’t quite discern

My hooves, soft steps on muddy ground
A mushing sound into wet earth, a sad sound
Something about the noise triggers clarity
Of days when my hooves echoed bombastic across this meadow

Oh, those day
Unbridled by the haze of domestication
We ran feral and free and thunderous
How did we lose our wondrous wild?

Now we reside in docile days
We are corpulent and disinclined
I don’t remember when we last trotted
Let alone galloped svelte and furious

I snort, a dispirited sigh
Exhalation curls white beneath my muzzle
I’m reminded of the billowing clouds of a building storm
I want to run

I cannot see in this murkiness
I whiney to locate you
You reply with a tone of complacency
I beg, “Run again with me”