Let those who love me follow me

My passion is my ally, my most intimate friend,
She laughs at well-dusted enclosures.
She runs over mowed lawns and abandons stale water troughs.
She follows the flows of wild rivers.

As I pass by, your hands have neither harness, nor seals, nor stirrups to hold on to it,
And your lassos barely have time to turn in the air before I’m out of your sight.

As I pass, the breath converts the mares withered by poor grass and messes up the braided manes of the show stallions.

The blow of my passage drives the last lazy flies away from your eyes.
Who am I ?
Do not utter a single word.

I pass at dawn: let those who love me follow me

©FJ Dec 2023
Recueils / Participation/ Groupe de Pratique