This was written at the same time as a similar poem, but I can't remember which came first. In any case, I had an idea that I wanted to express, and these are the two ways I tried to go about it. There were things I liked about this one over the poem, and vice versa. I couldn't decide which of the two pieces did the job better, so I kept them both. You might want to read the companion poem, Confusion's Fears, or go ahead and take a look at this first. It doesn't really matter. But I would greatly appreciate any comments you have, such as what you liked and didn't like about each, and which one you liked best.
Confusion
Three young horses roamed hills of green, freely wandering their home. Two were swift and ready, made to run. One was large and strong, gentle for her size.
They played together, for a year and more. Grew and explored, near the rolling sea.
One small and black, with a shining inward gaze. She was the swiftest of the three.
One tall and golden, a fine intelligent sort. Handsome as the sun, he saw his reflection distorted, and would shy away from stranger's eyes.
They clung together, and to their friend.
The last was large, bred from draft stock, her coat so dark a brown, it was nearly black. Long white feathers whipped with each heavy step.
They leaned on each other in storms.
Then the two ran together, and their speed escaped her weary thunder. They pulled ever farther ahead, nipping playfully. Trim legs pumped, calling speed effortlessly. Ears pricked forward, and soft muzzles touched.
She ran behind. Thick legs churned, and hot breath tore her throat. Forced to slow, she whickered, too softly to be heard. Somehow she hoped they would hear, would turn and see. The speed they commanded was not hers, and the scent of dust hung heavy in the air. She waited, she walked, and she wandered. She understood change, and could only approve of this one. But memories of running alone; empty hills and silent days, following the wind and listening to the sea, made her anxious. She knew they weren't that far, could see their distant figures returning.
A summer storm broke loose. Clouds scudded across the night sky, high and thick. Lightning cracked and struck, a chaos of deadly light. Its fury found the small black, and from within came an answer. The filly squealed and raced breakneck through the darkness. Heart pounding so loud it drowned out the storm, she never heard her own voice lift above the thunder. Her breath came hard as hooves rattled over stones. Tendons snapped taut as she ran wildly over treacherous ground.
The colt slept on, unmindful of the storm. Hide twitching from pleasant dreams, each breath brought the smell of familiar earth. He knew another day would see them back with his friend.
The brown woke, and listened as something moved in the night. Rising, dark eyes scanned the hills, ears twitched, seeking. Grass swished around her legs.
Eyes greeted her, burning with a fierce inner light. Nuzzling the hot body gently, she withdrew. The black pawed the ground and tossed her head. She would find her own path.
After a time, she returned, and the others stepped softly around her. It was a while before they played freely again.
When the grass was dry and ripe, yellow with the sun, first one, then the other, left the side of their quiet friend. They sped away down paths they'd never taken. She flicked her short tail restlessly. She could not see them, so far had they gone.
She waited, and walked, and wandered. They would return.
They did. And oh, the change! Silver shoes flashed with each step, and manes were braided or neatly cut. Their coats were sleek and shiny, a magnificent sight! She neighed a welcome. Friends still, they capered and played, heads tossing, rearing and kicking for the sky. They stayed a short time, and then left.
She whinnied her goodbyes, and waited, and walked, and wandered. They would return.
They did. Equine holidays loomed large, and she pranced in excitement. The day darkened, sun disappearing beneath an overcast sky. Down the path they came, shoes flashing in the soft light. They played half-heartedly, while she tried to coax some joy out of the day. When they left, it was on seperate paths.
The gentle brown was left alone again. Her kind did not mature as fast as the others, and she looked at their departing backs wistfully.
She waited, and walked, and wandered. They would return.
They did, a storm on their heels. Truly, the earth sang as she raced to meet them, large hooves thumping, feathers flying.
Each welcomed her, and then with a flattening of ears and screams of fury, the black and gold rushed together. Lips lifted and teeth snapped, hooves pounding the ground. Bodies rose and forelegs slashed through the air. Necks weaved, snakelike, and bites and kicks were exchanged before the brown's astounded eyes. Large ears snapped back, and she hurled herself between them. The sounds of teeth clicking loudly and hooves thudding against skin and bone vibrated against the air. Finally, the brown shouldered away a kicking colt, and kept the other filly at bay with her own teeth. She reared, pawing angrily. She brought her forehooves down hard. A loud snort and shake of her head put an end to it. Her determined strength defeated their anger. But iron shoes had landed a few blows, and her chest ached.
Anger gone, the black filly and gold colt nuzzled apologetically, trotted away to settle their differences, and made their peace.
Alone, her hurts festered, robbing her strength. She laid down and blew wearily. She watched for their coming with trepidation, no longer sure which was preferable: their presence, or their absence. So she waited, and walked, and wandered. They would return.
They did. The brown shied away at first, then finally greeted them. For once, it seemed almost as old times. The black and gold played amiably, and only occasionally did they race ahead, leaving the brown straining in the dust. Then once again it was time for them to go.
The brown whinnied a sad farewell, a weight in her chest. Her head swung low as she plodded up a hill. Storm clouds rolled above, and a cool wind began to blow. It tossed her long, dark mane back. She raised her head to the storm. She was tired of waiting. She kicked a hind leg defiantly, white hairs swirling. Thunder boomed. She leaped into a gallop, muscles surging, nostrils flaring wide. Her hooves pounded a rhythm of lesser thunder. She was tired of walking.
The wind blew the tall grass, creating waves of green to rival the ocean. She ran and jumped like a boat in rough seas. Her bulk cut its own course, far from any path. Her heavy grace was an awesome thing, but no one was there to see. She was tired of wandering. She raised bared white teeth to the lightning, and neighed stridently. Her voice answered the winds as she finally released the maelstrom she'd kept inside.
She plunged to a halt, sides heaving. She was tired of the confusion she felt. It was time to make a decision. She looked back at the paths her friends had taken, at the place where she met them upon their arrival.
She dropped her head and gave a great sigh, then turned and walked slowly back. The ties were strong yet, loyalty binding. Her heart and mind whirled, while grey clouds roiled overhead.
So she waited. And she walked. And she wandered. They would return.
