he was born in the time of the turning of leaves

in a moonlit valley by a swift, foamy stream

the days gave him strength bringing courage and pride

‘til he challenged the elders matching their strides

then the group lagged behind for he ran like the breeze

so he’d stop for a moment near the shade of the trees

while the sun warmed his mane and the wind cooled his fur

this lanky young colt led the last mustang herd

he led them thru seasons that soon became years

thru trials, past treasons, and over their fears

but his fear was as piercing as the wolf’s howl at night

the two-leggers closed in and he foresaw their might,

as they swam in the river one crystal clear day

the beasts and their ropes took his brothers away

and they were hot on his trail but he galloped assured

‘til he realized the fall of the last mustang herd

when he finally stopped running, he scuffed and he cried

they’ll not capture me, for my freedom i’ll die

he bolted and snorted with angry hoof beats

and climbed the tall mountain embracing its peak

now against an orange sunset in a wild western sky

stands a picturesque stallion with head held so high

and he dreams of the place where his heart will unfurl

to again lead the charge of the last mustang herd

Lithopolis, Ohio ‘79