Nights, clod and breathless
Horses’ nickers on the wind with hunger in their voices.
The moon, Round, and full high in the midnight sky.
My horse, slick with sweat and ice.
Running with the chilled wind,
Across great feilds covered in hard, crunchy snow.
His breath, snakes about us like a ghost of the past.
Icicles, froming like snow drifts as he cools down.
He snorts, deffiantly upon our return,
His spiritand blood, of his ancestors,
Wild, Free, Untameable, and Unbreakable.
Me, his choosen one,
We become one, one with the night.
~AMC~