I see him in a field
Riding his horse
Up and down
The hooves never touch
The grassy ground
The long stalks of the
Mid-summer grass bend
Under the breeze of
Horse and Rider
Mist rolling across the
Field before them
He drives it on
With his breath
Sweetness of the
Rippling waves of white
Engulf me
I breathe in the Scent of sun-dried
Wind-touched grass in
The mist of early morning
I see him galloping
Toward me
A breath sweeps my hair
Away from my face
It flows out behind me
He passes, barely touching
My shoulder
The sun rises
I look but do not see
The horse nor his owner
The Wind Rider

copyright 2008 by Magical Ink (magical-ink.blogspot.com)