Wild Stallion

You ran right past me, taking the wind with you.

When I look at this photograph, I always pause at the lifted hoof. Your mane has swept across your face and your whole weight is coming forward. I know what happens in the next second. You’ll be past me, and I’ll turn to follow you.

I remember how strong you looked coming towards me. I remember how close you felt as you passed. The moment was over before I had time to take in either of those things.

I’d go back for that one second. I’d stand in the same spot in Alberta and feel the rush of air as you went by. Then I’d turn and watch you run a little longer.