This is a prose poem I wrote in the Spring several years ago. I was playing around with the control and release of energy within each line, and I thought this topic lent itself well to that experiment.
A man is releasing horses. The tallest gleams like polished mahogany. The smaller one is gray, a mare with her foal: coal black and gangly-legged, he’s a tangle of nerve and muscle trotting beside her, wide-eyed, skittish. Leaning into the breeze, they gather speed, bucking and twisting, rumps and hips thrown up, necks lowered and nostrils flared, the thousand separate hairs of their manes flung back into unbroken banners.