Night Mare

A sudden start. I'm on a nearly boundless, moonlit plane.
The grass is swaying, gently bothered by a southern breeze.
The sound of hooves on prairie dust, still beat down by the rain.
I turn to see a night mare, spindly legs and skinny knees.
She motions, snorting, and I jump upon her weathered back,
and she takes off, each leap a mile as fields meld into green.
Soon, heavy clouds obscure the moon and everything turns black.
The night mare's eyes, two glowing embers capturing the scene.
And so we ride, for hours it seems, until the break of light.
What wonders did she take me to I truly couldn't tell.
But I remember, daily, as I get set for the night,
to wish for that same night mare, and to fall under her spell.

Author notes: wc 136