I wish I knew what was going through the mind of that horse,

having bucked it’s owner to the lake.

Was it an accident?, a local spook?,

Or was it a conscious move, that he had no choice but to take.

The horse, as stone, glares to the icy plunge,

Swaying slightly to the wind that flutters through his mane.

This was no tragedy, this was purpose,

Bred from a lifetime of endurance, maltreatment and a patience that has waned.

The bristled grey Strands reach finally the surface,

Face down, eyes front to the abyss.

I’ve never seen a horse smile,

But I’ve ever seen a horse happier than this.

The horse rips his gaze away from the final view,

Of the man that held him hostage, a well groomed slave.

The horse leaves his former master behind,

Delivers an eye shot of victory, then returns to the cave.