a midnight blue stallion, captured in fused glass. White whips
of mane writhe and twist away from his neck in a tease
of forward movement. Iridescent fire is his corral: sun-flamed ocher,
umber, sienna. No bit, no halter impedes the thrust of his neck.
I stroke my hand down his cool surface. Do I sense a quiver?
I dream of moon-shimmered mist, a glint of indigo. Hooves paw
the ground; he whinnies, come. White hawk feathers glow
and twirl in my braids as I run to the one who waits. I curve
my body around his neck and ride him, bareback. Ride and ride
until we shatter.
Wonderfully sexual and innocent, without inbred shame. What a delightful study!
Thank you!! I couldn’t resist!
Ride ’em, cowgirl!
Hee hee, Allison!!
Than final line is quick–exciting–inviting to my eye…
Exactly what I was aiming for!!
work music
smooth jazz instrumental
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