In the mist, muffled stomping of a horse’s feet
The sound grows louder, bursting through the fog
unto the cold, wooden bridge in the form of a hysterical horse
infected by the spirit of its rider.
As the neighing fades, I stare, bewildered
Only a spectator till I’m a victim
What can I hope for
When I do not understand?
Mowabites Worldwide 