Wolf

Upon the highest mountain rise,
The wolf belts out his soulful cries.
His lonesome howls spread across the land.
Reach even the moon created by God's own hand.
He runs swift yet silent through the wood,
And reflects an elegance, only a wolf could.

Eagle

The eagle soars across the skies
The wind caresses him as he flies
He glides upon the gentle breeze
So far up, above the towering trees
Icon for all that is fierce and strong
Legendary from the beginning and all
along
The sun goes down and he finds his nest
He shelters his young beneath his breast

Wind Dancing

A flash of color streams by. Clouds of dust explode from the settled earth. Silken strands stream in the wind. Barely audible whispers tingle in the silent air. A taste of freedom brushes my lips. A burst of intense power engulfs my senses. I silently stand watching, absorbing the rush of pure instinct.
It is a beautifully spontaneous dance of the wild. Bursts of speed turn into dainty steps. Thunderous rhythms pound the earth in endless percussion, twisting and turning in writhing patterns. A large, dark silhouette prancing and swaying in the twilight.
The evening air lends a feeling of illusion and mystery. The wind channeling through the branches of the trees provides a light melody. The other night sounds finish off the enchanting symphony.
Others sense the passion and join in the swirling rhythms. The dance becomes a partnership. The first leading the creativity, and the others matching every stroke. They are bucking and rearing and sprinting across the field. The intense energy seems never to decline.
The exhausting dance soon shows in the heavy, hot breath emanating from their nostrils into the crisp air. They are rubbing and circling each other. The hard pace relents into slow languid motions.
Finally as if the dance was only imagined, she stops and stretches her long neck towards the ground. She sniffs the dirt and paws the earth. I still stand by the fence. At last sensing my presence, she looks over. She sways as if deciding and then trots over to me.
I reach out to touch her large head. She pulls away in rebellion, and then lowers her head. I scratch her ears and hold out my hand. She gingerly sniffs the morsel there. Her rubbery lips brush my hand. She stands there munching in ecstasy, the steps closer. She rubs her nose on my shoulder. I must look like a scratching post because soon she is rubbing her head up and down on my chest.
The others stand together and watch. Their longing for the bond between man and horse has not yet overcome their fear. For now they settle for the strong camaraderie of each other.
My attention returns to the horse nudging and scratching on me. I scratch her head once more. And then run my hands over her soft coat.
The night air turning cold, I whisper good-bye in her ear. I turn away and walk toward the gate. Closing it behind me I watch her smooth, strong body. Her mane and tail lifted slightly by the breeze and her thick winter coat glistening in the moonlight.
Finally ripping my gaze from her gorgeous silhouette, I shuffle towards my room but not without a backward glance every few steps. The dance continues its beautiful patterns in my mind. At times I wonder when I will next see "the dance," but then I remember all I have to do is close my eyes.

Dormant

The bare branches on that old tree,
Sway in the wind so mysteriously.
Night tints it black against the skies.
So dark and silent as if it dies.
But no, against the winter cold it sleeps.
A sliver of life in it's core it keeps.
So that when the spring rains fall down.
And the sun begins to warm the ground.
That life inside spills out again.
Bringing back the glory there once had been.
Green life radiates from every limb.
Far forgotten those nights so grim.