Distant bounds on earth a thunder cloud
lights the sky a mournful cry, hail with wind
falling down along the shores, the Stallion grey
neighs in pain from lighting strikes, piercing deep
rolling to his knees rising again in strength of power.
Bred for hardship like ancestors of noble stock in anger,
where he was born on the windy shores near the sea,
lashing out rising in fury his hooves stomping sand.
His mare with foal standing proud, neighing loudly
healing him in pastures green, roaming together
such rich memories these valleys of home,
like some far off fragrance of a wild rose
head held high snorting at the wind.
Lightning hiding beyond the clouds
flashed the long reflected rays,
the baby foal born this day
stumbling falling swaying,
in the sunshine of new life.
Blessed the hillside to rest
his grand process being alive,
proud heritage as the wild horse
heading this course to see the sea,
six foreign leagues before him now
and hear gulls swooping screeching,
mournful cries diving across the waves.
Foamy sea horses surfing along the shore,
silver in the silence the stallion and the mare
trotting with their foal a family triumphantly free,
my view from high up on my Granddad’s farm
the lonely open space there on the veranda,
looking down the valley a beautiful view
wild horses rolling in the low tide.
