Brethren Of The Winds Poem by James Gibbons

She nuzzled her first born,
Until he ungainly stood. Fresh birthed, dewy damp, Rocking unsteadily, a new life.
The herd settled, calmed by mother love Then slowly moved down the rocky draw,
Hooves danced, tattooing the morning mist,
Shaking the night loose, dawns promise,
Roaming the sun lit prairie lands.
Browsing the lush verdant growth.
Singing the song of the herd, brethren of the wind
The little foal understood the song.
And they heard his first call, Joyfully hearing the whiny of a new life.

But it wasn't always so, with master-man
Confined to the jig and plow. Consigned To repetition, plodding nowhere
To stall and back as leaves fall
And blossoms end, in endless cycle.,
But now they're running, running free. And they're strong, for the herd is many
Manes and hooves, glistening forelocks sprint
Breaking morning's silence.

Hush, they instinctively stop, shiver
And smell the man- masters approach.
Frightened, instinctively moving,
The herd's survival depends on speed;
Fleet of foot, to run from the man- masters smell,
Freedom to roam, away the hell of man-masters
Down the shallow draw the hooves pound,
And up the crest with nowhere to go.
Over the edge they plunge
Their stretched out lithe bodies,
Momentarily outlined by the setting sun.
Forever frozen in that unending second.