A Full-Moon Windy Night

There is exhilaration and deep-seated fear
in walking beside this embodiment of all fire and spirit,
who prances like a young stallion,
not feeling his twelve years of gelded,
restrained, trained existence.

He floats beside me -
the line a living, electrical thing between us -
the only cord keeping us connected and
apart at the same time.
Do I hold close, near his head, and risk
being pulled off my feet?
Or do I pay out the line and risk
being dragged away in his quest to ride the air?

I alternate with the look in his eye.

Then, in the midst of all his movement,
He stills all muscles and stands, vibrating with tension.
His head so high above me, surely he is eye-to-eye with stars -
And there, I can see them shining in the deep, dark pools of his eyes.
The wind takes his mane and shakes it furiously,
pulls its long, dragging fingers through the strands,
holds it out and through his pin-pricked ears and shows the world
what Beauty truly is.

On this full-moon windy night, my friends,
I am merely the messenger
of his magnificence.