Spirit Of The West Poem by Terry Hoffman

What is more a symbol of
the spirit of the west,
than a herd of wild mustangs
standing upon a crest?

Their manes and tails a-blowing,
their nostrils spread for scent.
Heads are tossing in the air;
their graceful necks are bent.

A sudden fright, they are spooked
and gather up their foals.
Run on graceful legs so fleet
with eyes as bright as coals.

Man has tried to kill them off,
but they won't hear of it.
Free to run and play and breed;
they'll never know the bit.