hoofbeats thrumming across the hills
a gentle neigh, a toss of manes
watch the horses come for grain
they fly down the hill to drink
from the pond made only of rainwater
and then they come to search their buckets
for oats and corn and molasses
once they’ve done, they will be brushed
smooth with the grain of their coats
making them shiny and soft
and then it will be time to saddle up
time for us all to ride and run
just as they desire on free rein
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