and dust rides on the tail

of the iron horse and its road,

while fields sway in time 

to songs long silenced

in memory of a mustang

strong and true ,

beauty unrivaled

with mane dancing wildly

galloping to the watering holes

deep in green and blue.

refreshing waters from upstream

pouring down south,

rippling over stones shaped

with wet palms rolling over

like the potter and her

sensuous song,

rhythm to the clay

moistened to the touch,

rising funnel ready for the heat,

bakers glaze to finish up,

work of heart given willingly

over to nature''s paradox between

the gold of the sun

and the onyx of night.

mingled together in the sky,

heavenly bodies unite,

creating showers bringing forth

birth in seeds lying dormant

in the earth,

long awaiting the call to appear,

something that assures them

there''s something out there,

something riding the

tides of the air.