Vision of Wild

Twisting and straddling endless ruts
on tiny forgotten dirt roads
for miles and miles and miles
It was easy to believe
that civilization would
never be found again
Then upon a distinguished turning
into a narrow valley green
with sky so close it could be touched
and a meadow so green it almost hurt
Thereupon, a pounding, rollicking herd
of ghostly mustangs flew across
A vision of wild, taking breath with them