Midnight Mare

Springtime rains.
And reigns.
I reach to grab its reins amidst its fullest gallop,
and just beyond my humble reach
her midnight mane retreats.
Willful,
dark and sweet,
she wanders close
beyond my fingers hopeless grasp.

I watch her wander,
far but never free,
and wonder oft
what deep and dark she seeks,
what depths have forced her pondered steps,
what secret thoughts
have turned those steps
to hurried leaps.

Away, away,
my midnight mare retreats,
recedes behind the April rain
and runs.
She bold and swiftly moves
beneath,
beyond,
because,
before I have the chance
to sooth her sorrow.
Before I get the fleeting chance
to tame her beautied face,
her thoughts and fading dreams.

But there she runs,
and there she leaps the fences facing,
long and dark beneath the deepened dusk.
And back she looks-
not with soft regret,
but fully knowing,
full,
forever,
that never once
will even just a single step she takes
be taught or tamed
beneath another's forceful gaze.

I reach to grab her reins
amidst her fullest gallop,
and just beyond my humble reach
her midnight mane retreats.