The Gallop Poem by Jenny Kalahar

Two weeks old
Unsure, yet very sure
His heart on fire like the sun that morning
He wants to gallop forever
Or off to Mars from this launching field
But his slender legs instead
Pound over psychedelic-colored trails
Where old horses used to run
Away from their frightening dreams of capture
Away from racetracks
Whips, and human cheers and screams

At two weeks old his hooves
Absorb those fears
Left there in layers on the dirt
And stone and trampled grass
Until Mars seems farther away
Than he had at first imagined

And just then mother
Standing calmly nearby
Watching
Looks like an angel
In her gown of sun-streaked fog
She looks like peace and safety
She looks like all he really wants

He shakes his head to clear it, snorting
Trots to fifty feet behind her swaying tail
Gaining comfort, keeping freedom
Breathing deeper than before

His lips pull and bite the untrod green
Sparkling with morning dew and promise
He stands straight again to stamp
And dance in patterns across the field's first growth of spring
His hooves gliding over new trails
Where old horses never stood